


Teleology

by gomez36000



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gomez36000/pseuds/gomez36000
Summary: The bloody war has ended at Harry’s sixth-year. Though hailed a hero, he’s ready for one last year at Hogwarts. One year of a normal life before becoming an Auror. While there, a simple agreement manages to challenge his identity as a hero, while still providing the normalcy he craves. Haphne AU. Post-War 7th year.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Tracey Davis/Ron Weasley
Comments: 30
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

Golden flashes of light winked up at him in his designated place of honor on the tall stage. An ocean of awestruck faces stared up at him, their reverence clearly expressed above their small tokens of more mundane admiration. The near-constant shifting of the small lightning-bolt pins distracted him from the well-rehearsed, impassioned speech the Minister was giving on his behalf. 

“-to the ends of the earth, you have our gratitude.” Minister Shacklebolt gestured grandly over to Harry as he finished his speech, prompting loud and significant applause. From beneath his podium, he produced a dark wooden box and stepped over to where Harry stood alone in the middle of the much-too-large stage. He stopped in front of him, a private, commiserative smile lifting his cheeks. “Nearly there,” he said, his reassurance covered by the fading cheers from behind him. He turned to address the crowd once more, lifting his free hand for silence. “I, the Minister for Magic, do hereby present you with the highest honor we may give. For your significant and unmistakable contribution to the defeat of Voldemort, I hereby award you the Order of Merlin, First Class.”

An explosion of cheers accompanied the medal the minister placed over Harry’s bowed head. The bright green ribbon dug into the back of his neck as the Minister let go, letting the full significant weight of the large gold medallion rest on Harry’s shoulders. Harry dutifully waved back to the cheering crowd in front of him before doing his absolute best to look like he wasn’t fleeing the stage.

A heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder after he’d descended the stairs, still safely behind the limited protection of the temporary walls of the ‘verified persons only’ section to the side of the stage.

“That wasn’t quite as bad as you thought it would be, was it?” the Minister asked, patting Harry once more on the shoulder before removing his hand.

“It was a bit worse, but I was glad to hear you left his name in,” Harry said.

Kingsley chuckled and shrugged. “You can’t exactly ignore a request like that from someone like you. Especially when I’m still trying to convince you to take my offer for a position in the Ministry.”

Wholly unable to suppress his shudder, Harry shook his head. “You and I both know the only thing I’d be suited for is to be an Auror, and I still have to take my NEWTs for that.”

  
  


“I’m sure I can convince the board to make some sort of exception. I’ll let you know what I find out!” Without waiting for a reply he stepped around the walls, his more confident Minister’s persona squarely in place.

Harry looked up to the high ceiling of the atrium, desperately wishing he were anywhere other than standing in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. During the short rehearsal the day before, the Minister had told him the ceremony was usually a much smaller affair. However, considering the sheer amount of awards to be given out that day, and the public relations boost the Ministry still desperately needed, they’d gone all-out to accommodate as much of the general public as possible. He savored the moments of mock solitude, doing his best to pretend his ‘adoring fans’ weren’t just around the temporary wall, waiting for their hero to emerge. It was not insignificant comfort that his friends and most of his classmates were all a part of the massive crowd. To a person, each one that had participated in the gruesome Battle of Hogwarts had been awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class.

A mop of red hair popped around the edge of the wall, Ron’s freckled face appearing as he peered around the corner. He caught sight of Harry and vanished, reappearing a moment later with Hermione. They joined him in the relative silence of the sectioned off space. They were both dressed in the ‘fancy’ dress robes they’d all had to purchase for the event, though Harry couldn’t tell the difference between them and his normal robes, except for the price. Hermione’s wild hair was slightly tamed into a ponytail that looked ready to burst free of its prison of clips and hair-ties. Ron towered over them both, a full head taller than Harry, and half again than Hermione. He’d complained at length to the unfairness that his robes cost more just because of something he couldn’t control. The red band of their awards dangling from their necks was the only glint of color to their outfit, next to the golden lightning-bolt pin stuck to the front of their robes.

“You didn’t,” he groaned, pointing to the shifting pins. On cue, they moved in quick jagged motions, giving the illusion of forked lightning striking the ground.

“You got one, mate,” Ron said, gesturing to Harry’s own hypocritical pin. “Why shouldn’t we? It’s to ‘commemorate the occasion.’”

“I got one because the vendor looked like he might die on the spot if I refused,” Harry said. “Besides, isn’t your medal enough to remember this by?”

Ron lifted the medal reverentially to stare at it for a moment, before placing it against his chest. “Sure,” he said with a nod. “But I won’t be able to whip out the medal a couple of years from now as a joke to make you groan.” He tapped the golden pin which shifted in response. “It’s an investment.”

“ _I_ thought it’d be a nice memory,” Hermione said, “and I was curious to see how long they got the animation charm to last.”

Ron rolled his eyes and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Cedric is going spare out there. I was sent to fetch you so you can ‘make your rounds and begin to cultivate those connections.’”

“I’m not sure about all that,” Harry said. “But we’d better get it over with.”

He took in a deep breath and allowed his friends to lead him out into the throng of people waiting to meet their hero.

“Thank you Mr. Potter-”

“-you sign my hat?”

“-my firstborn after you!”

“Can I get a photograph?”

Ron had assumed the role of bodyguard, maneuvering Harry through the crowd as best he could without outright threatening anyone. For his part, Harry greeted those he could; shook hands and signed everything from pamphlets to arms, and on one notable occasion, a rather forward witch’s chest. Ears burning at the calls for similar attention, he followed close behind Ron to where they joined a small clump of people on the outskirts of the crowd. Hermione brought up the rear, shooing away a few of the more persistent witches with requests for privacy and assurances that Harry wasn’t leaving just yet. Once they’d arrived, she split off to join up with Ginny and Luna, who stood near the center of the mass of students.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he joined the familiar group. Almost every person around him wore an Order of Merlin medal, each one with the red ribbon of second class for their participation in the Battle of Hogwarts, many of them despite the age restriction. Their ceremony had been short and sweet, something Harry had grown jealous of as his portion of the ceremony had begun to drag on. A flash of green caught his eye, and he saw Headmistress McGonagall standing at the edge of the small group, a First Class medal of her own hanging around her neck. The displeased set to her features faded as he approached, replaced by what had to be the largest smile he’d ever seen his old Head of House give.

“Well done, Mr. Potter,” she said. “I daresay you managed to successfully trick people into thinking you didn’t mind being on that stage.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been alone, Professor,” he said, pointing to her medal. “Why weren’t you up there with me?”

“I requested a small private affair. I’m not one for the spotlight.”

“I wish someone had told me that was an option.”

“For you, it’s not,” she said, her smile fading into a much more familiar look of general concern. “The people need to see their hero. Especially with those raids still going on." She crossed her arms in front of her, her mouth returning to its customary thin steely line. "Are you sure you want to come back to Hogwarts so soon? I would be happy to allow you three to join the class behind you next year.”

He shook his head. “We want to graduate with our friends. I know we were gone most of sixth year because of the war, but that’s part of the reason we want to come back. It’ll be nice to go back to normal.”

“Be that as it may, I implore you to consider taking some time off. Hogwarts isn’t going anywhere. You have a couple of weeks if you want to change your mind.”

“I’ll think about it, Professor,” he said, turning as a hand clapped him on the back.

“Sorry to interrupt, Professor,” Cedric said, an apologetic smile on his face. “But we’ve got a little shop to discuss.”

“I do wish you’d leave it to the Aurors, Diggory,” she said. “It _is_ their job after all.”

“I know, but right now they need all the help they can get, and the Order can do that. I’ve been told they’ve got some new recruits transferring in from some of the other Ministries around Europe, but they still need training.”

“Indeed. I hope you both enjoy the rest of the event. I have to return to Hogwarts to help finish up the restoration. A few of the wards still need to be re-keyed.” She turned to Harry, her lips curving in another small smile. “Congratulations, Mr. Potter.”

“You too, Professor.”

He allowed Cedric to lead him away from the group and over to an empty alcove nearby. With practiced ease, Cedric produced his wand and cast a quick succession of anti-eavesdropping and privacy charms.

“Cedric, you know I don’t want to be a part of the-”

“They attacked Godric’s Hollow,” Cedric cut in, his previous joviality vanished.

Harry froze in his protests, a frown creasing his brow. “Did anyone get hurt?”

Cedric shook his head. “Seems like most of the residents were gone for the summer hols. I got word from Alicia that the Death Eaters were extra jumpy this time. Seems like they were expecting you to show, and when the Order members arrived, they thought it was you and fled.”

“I’m glad no-one was injured,” Harry said. “What’d they want from Godric’s Hollow anyway?”

“It’s just a guess right now, but we think they were looking into ways to bring Voldemort back again.”

“Ah. I see why you needed to talk to me.”

“You are one of the three people that knows,” Cedric said with a sigh. “It’s tough to ask people to do things without being able to tell them why. I don’t know how Dumbledore did it for so long.”

Harry shrugged. “Better you than me. Do you think they know what they were looking for?”

“I don’t. It seems like they were trying to get some information from where he died…er…the first time. They were sifting through what was left of…well, of your old house.”

“Right.”

Cedric ran a hand through his short brown hair and winced apologetically. “I’m sorry to bring this to you, but as I said, there aren't many people I can have keeping an ear out for stuff like this. I know you don’t want to deal with Order stuff anymore.”

Harry nodded, gesturing out to the crowd with his chin. “Dealing with all that is pretty much a full-time job. I can help if you all really need it, but for now, I’d like to be able to have as much of a normal year as I can.”

“I completely understand.” Cedric waved his wand, dispelling the charms around their small alcove. “You don’t want to keep your adoring public waiting,” he added with a laugh.

Cedric split off to find the Minister, while Harry rejoined the group of students to yet more congratulatory greetings. As he finished taking a photo with Dennis Creevey, he saw Ron making a beeline over to him, a plate held in one hand. “Here you go, mate. I doubt you’d be able to make it over to the food before it’s all gone.”

“I didn’t even know there was food,” he said, gratefully accepting the plate. He tried not to inhale the small meal after his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the evening before thanks to his significant nerves upon waking up that morning.

“I ran into Tonks,” Ron said conversationally. “She said once the Auror transfers are in, she and Lupin are gonna finally take a proper honeymoon.”

“Good for them,” Harry said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “They deserve it.”

Ron scanned the nearby crowd while Harry ate, occasionally running interference when a member of the public wandered up for an autograph or to offer their congratulations. Once he’d finished, Ron elbowed him gently in the side. “Incoming.”

Harry followed Ron’s gaze to see two of their classmates approaching. The one with shoulder-length brown hair was waving to them as she approached, a wide friendly grin on her face. The other followed slightly behind, her long blond hair strung over one shoulder.

“Those robes don’t do them justice,” Ron said under his breath. He put his hands up protectively at Harry’s answering glance. “What? It’s been almost a year since Lavender dumped me. No reason not to at least consider the option. ‘Get back in the game’ as it were.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Harry whispered back. Though he might not have put it quite so bluntly, the way the blonde's robes shifted as she moved silhouetted a form that made Ron a liar for understatement alone. He absently straightened his robes as they approached.

“Weasley, Potter. Fancy running into you here.” Tracey’s greeting was punctuated by a friendly wave.

“Davis, Greengrass,” Ron answered similarly. He pointed to the Second Class medals hanging around their necks. “I didn’t know you two stuck around for the battle.”

“We weren’t at the epicenter, like you lot,” Tracey said. “We fought our way out of the dungeons to get the baby Slytherins out.” She shrugged. “It’s no Dark Lord, but it would seem like it was worth a medal.” She appraised Harry and Ron as she spoke, her gaze lingering somewhere on Ron’s chest before she looked back up at him. “Didn’t see you two around much last year. Wherever you were, it seemed to have filled you out. I remember you being a lot lankier, Weasley.”

Ron colored, his ears burning a dark red as he laughed nervously. “Rough livin’ for nearly a year will do that to a-oof.”

Harry removed his elbow from Ron’s side, doing his best to emulate Hermione’s ‘You’re saying too much’ look she was so practiced at giving them. They’d agreed, with Cedric’s input, not to tell a soul about their quest during their sixth-year to find Voldemort’s Horcruxes, lest they begin a vague trail to the forbidden knowledge. They’d even gone so far as to steal the book from the library that had mentioned Horcruxes in passing. Hermione had not been well pleased to destroy such a rare book.

“Well, whatever it was, you look good,” Tracey said with a smile. She turned to Harry and gestured to him with her chin. “I’ve got to admit, I’m surprised to see you wearing one of those. Your medal is stuck on it, by the way.” She grinned. “You might want to take better care of a First Class Order of Merlin. They aren’t exactly a sickle a piece.”

Harry looked down to find the shifting lightning-bolt had snagged the green ribbon of his medal. He pulled it free, but the motion snapped the small pin, sending it skittering across the floor to bump against the hem of Daphne’s robes. She bent to pick it up and held it out to Harry.

“That might be worth some money someday, Daph,” Tracey said as Harry took the lightning-bolt and slid it into a pocket in his robes. “A pin from Harry Potter’s Order of Merlin ceremony that belonged to the man himself. Shame to just hand it back like that.”

Daphne rolled her eyes, letting her hand drop back to her side. “I assure you that if I am ever so destitute as to turn to celebrity paraphernalia to survive, you will find my dead body shortly after.”

Tracey let out a short laugh and turned back to Ron and Harry. “We’ve been making the rounds. You should hear the way people here are talking about you. They all expect you to start collecting medals like you’re the next coming of Merlin himself. Which if what we heard about your duel with big bad himself was true, they might be onto something. Seems like all that rumored training with Dumbledore over the years finally paid off.”

“They’ll get over it soon enough,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “Until then, we should go. There’s no good networking to be had here today, and we’ve done what we needed to do.”

It was Tracey’s turn to roll her eyes at her departing friend, and she offered Harry and Ron an apologetic smile. “I guess a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the inheritor of House Black is ‘ _bad networking_.’” She gave Daphne’s retreating form a quick glance, then turned to Harry. “She’s not nearly as bad once you get to know her. She’s got a project she’s stuck on, and I think you’re just the person she needs. I’ll work on her a bit before school starts if you’ll give her another chance.”

Harry could only nod, his gaze sliding back to Daphne, who had stopped, arms crossed as she waited for Tracey to join her.

Tracey smiled and winked at Ron. “See you both at school!”

Harry and Ron stared after the retreating girls until they vanished into the crowd. Ron let out a soft grunt and scratched at his chin. “I have no idea what that was all about.”

Harry let out a grunt of laughter. “Whatever ‘game’ it is you’re trying to get into, it looks like Tracey’s the one on the offensive. Good luck with that.”

Ron nodded appreciatively, darting one final glance towards where Daphne and Tracey had vanished into the milling crowd. “It’s a nice change of pace.” He grinned. “Doesn’t hurt that she’s a bit of a looker too. I’d go ahead and give Greengrass that second chance if I were you.”

  
Harry nodded slowly, rubbing the fingers of his right hand against his palm. Her fingertips had been far warmer than her demeanor, but he couldn’t _really_ blame someone for being on edge at such a major event. Besides, Dumbledore had always said that everyone deserved a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the beginning of a brand new fic. I needed a break from my other fic to sorta get my head on straight about it and had been kicking the idea for this one around for a few months. I worked like crazy on this. No joke. There's also 8 full chapters of a terrible version 1 that no-one else will ever see that I scrapped because it was just not good. Best decision ever.
> 
> Big ol' shoutouts to those that helped me with this. Matt, for helping this entire thing take its proper shape, but most of all inciting the scrapping of those first 8 chapters so this can be a good story. The hamster/house-elf hybrid for sick beta skills. And Rishi for having a dang laser focus on the tiny details, words, and grammar that I mess up.
> 
> This story is complete. I tried a lot of things with this one that are out of the norm for me, and a lot of them were really effective. Chapters will be posted pretty quickly, so if you like it, you won't be waiting long! Most likely every-other-day.


	2. Chapter 2

A fierce summer wind rattled the old windows of the Express as the Scottish countryside flashed by. Muted shouts and conversations from nearby compartments added to the irritating mess of noise. They were all summarily silenced by a quick wave of Hermione’s wand. She nodded her head in satisfaction before she slipped her wand back into its holster at her wrist.

“That’s better,” she said, looking between Harry and Ron. “So, how was the rest of your summer after the ceremony?”

“The whole week?” Ron grumbled. He shifted in his seat, stretching his legs out as much as he was able. “I swear these compartments used to be bigger.”

“What about you, Harry? Were you able to do anything?” She only offered Ron a quick sidelong glance before giving Harry her full attention.

“Not really,” he said with a shrug. “I tried to go out to pick up my supplies, but that was a big mistake.”

Ron let out a short laugh. “I can imagine. It was hard enough for me to get around. I can’t imagine what it’d have been like for you.”

“Same here,” Hermione said, tracing a small circle on her knee with one finger. “I actually had to give a couple of guys the slip with the disillusionment charm.” She frowned. “I ended up ordering my extra books via owl. There was no way I’d be able to carry it all and still dodge all those…people.”

“It was…rough,” said Harry, his head bobbing in agreement. “I ended up using Dobby to do my shopping.” Hermione glared at him, and he held up his hands in defense. “Hey, he offered.”

“Of course he did.”

“Y’know,” Ron said into the air. “You wouldn’t have had to go shopping if you’d taken that offer the Ministry and the board gave you. Free passes on your NEWTs? You could’ve just hung out with us all year!”

“We still have to study,” Hermione said. “And I’m proud of Harry for not taking the easy way out.”

“Thanks, Hermione. But to be honest, I didn’t take it because of the Auror job that came attached at the back-end.”

“Didn’t you want to be an Auror anyway? Seems like a win-win to me,” Ron said, stretching. He winced in pain as his hands banged against the luggage racks above them.

“Maybe. But not right now, that’s for sure. Kingsley sent a letter as a follow-up to the offer. They’d have pulled me out of school from time to time for an ‘internship’.”

“Which would likely be suppressing those remnant Death Eaters,” Hermione finished for him. She smiled. “The job will still be there after the tests. I’m glad you’ll be taking them with us.” 

“Son of a-” Ron cradled a finger after a particularly meaty thud sounded from the wall of the cabin.

“For Merlin’s sake, Ron,” Hermione said, grabbing his hand to check his finger. “Learn to control that ridiculous body of yours already.”

“It’s not my fault I got so tall,” he grumbled, snatching his hand out of Hermione’s. “It’s fine. We’re not in the woods anymore Hermione. You don’t have to do that for us. If it hurts later I’ll go see Pomfrey or something.”

“Yes, well I-” She seemed on the verge of saying something else, but let it go. “It’s good practice. Healing charms are worth big points in the Charms NEWT.”

“You know the Patronus is an instant pass,” Ron said. “Why not use that?”

“It feels like cheating,” she mumbled. “A whole bunch of people from the DA can do it, so we don’t even know if that’s true anymore.”

Ron blanched. “Shit. I’d been counting on that one.”

Harry laughed and turned his attention out to the now silent countryside, the familiar landscape tinted orange by the setting sun. Hermione followed his gaze, a slow sad smile falling across her face. “Our last ride to Hogwarts is almost over. We’d better put our robes on.”

Not long after they followed Hermione’s lead, the prefects made their way to the cabins to dispense the same advice. Harry had tried to smile at Ginny when she slid open their compartment door, the gleaming golden badge of a Gryffindor prefect pinned to the front of her robes. He received only a blank stare and nod in return.

He tried to keep an eye out for her as they waited in line for the thestrals, and again when the large crowd filed slowly into the Great Hall. No need to have more awkward moments than necessary. Wherever she was, she stayed out of sight, much to Harry’s relief. His gaze wandered from his search, instead moving up to the rebuilt ceiling of the Great Hall. He craned his neck to stare at the spot where he’d deflected one of Voldemort’s blasting curses through the enchanted roof. Not even a single brick seemed out of place behind the copy of the twinkling night sky outside. 

The rest of the Great Hall was as impeccably restored as the ceiling had been. Even the floor looked as though it'd had centuries of people walking across it, rather than the large gouges and cracked stones that had followed the battle. He made a mental note to ask McGonagall how they’d managed such impressive restoration in such a short time. After so much death and destruction, he’d thought it’d have taken ages to-

“Harry!”

He stumbled, bumping his shin into one of the benches. He glanced around to see Ron frowning down at him. “All right, mate?”

“It's a bit weird being back,” Harry said, sliding onto the bench between Ron and Hermione. “Hard to believe it happened at all.”

“I’d just as soon not remember it, thank you,” said Hermione. Her head turned slowly as she also took in the Great Hall, which appeared exactly as it had before the battle. “I wonder how-”

The massive doors swung open, interrupting her thought. Hagrid stood on the other side, leading what appeared to be…toddlers.

Surely they had never been so small and afraid.

He tried to smile reassuringly at one particularly nervous-looking boy. He saw the boy’s eyes widen when he caught sight of Harry and watched as he tripped and fell to the hard cobbles. Harry spun back around in his seat. Maybe if he didn’t look, it hadn’t happened. He sighed. It wouldn’t be a normal year if he didn’t get someone hurt. At least a scraped knee was no dementor or giant spider.

The sorting was quick and Headmistress McGonagall’s speech was quicker. Absent Dumbledore’s propensity for less-than-direct speech, as well as his general affability, her message was quick and to the point, her warnings even more concise and more effective for it. The meal that followed the introduction of Professor Martín, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was a welcome affair. Kreacher was a decent enough cook, but something about the way the Hogwarts elves prepared the food was more satisfying than anything the dour house-elf had produced. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all made their way to Gryffindor tower. Slowed by the occasional passing student who wanted to say ‘hello’ as well as a general feeling of being much-too-full, they fell far behind Ginny and the group of Gryffindors she led up to the tower.

“Do you remember wishing for this?” Ron said with a grunt as he slowly ascended one of the moving staircases. “When I imagined it, I hadn’t stuffed myself to the point of rolling down the stairs.”

Hermione nodded her agreement. “I’m not surprised we went a little overboard, but you’ve got to hurry up. Otherwise, the stairs will carry you off and it’ll take twice as long for you to get up to bed.”

“Yes,  _ mother _ ,” Ron grumbled, earning him a hard swat from Hermione.

“I didn’t like it…last year. And I don’t like it now.”

“Sorry.”

Much to Harry’s relief, the bickering stopped with the apology, and they enjoyed a quiet, if slow, return to Gryffindor tower. Their friendly silence was broken when they stepped through the portrait to a common room full of expectant faces. Questions and requests bombarded them as soon as they entered the room, the wall of noise almost pushing them from the room.

“All right you lot!” A harsh, threatening voice cut through the din, stifling the shouts to murmurs. Ginny pushed her way through to the front and turned on the assembled Gryffindors. “You told me you just wanted to thank them, not gawk like idiots. Get out of here before I have to explain to the Headmistress that the very first night she’s not our Head of House anymore, the entire house loses ten points!” Irritated grumbles from a few of the older students in the front met her outburst. Ginny’s threatening step forward snapped them to attention. “ _ Each _ .”

Under their prefects glower, the assembled students dispersed, a few looking back dejectedly before scrambling up the stairs to the dorms. One student stepped around Ginny, clapping a hand on her shoulder as she passed. “I always knew you were scrappy,” Katie said. “But I didn’t know you could rule with such an iron fist. Properly scary that was.”

“One good scare will last a while,” Ginny replied with a tired smile. Her neck twitched, either a repressed glance in Harry's direction or a flickering shadow. He couldn’t tell. “Bill told me that. I’m heading up to bed. See you tomorrow.”

Katie waved them into the room, dropping herself onto one of the large couches, her arms resting on top of the backrest. “I’m Quidditch captain this year,” she said, her gaze freezing Harry as he lowered himself into a chair.

“You’re also  _ here _ this year,” Hermione pointed out, sitting on the couch next to her.

Katie nodded, shrugging theatrically. “Not all of us can be gone for most of a year and get a pass. It’s okay though. I’d have been lonely if I didn’t have anyone to talk to, but Quiddich has helped me make friends with a lot of the younger students.” She refocused on Harry, her joviality slipping away. “Listen. I know things aren’t great between you and Ginny, but it’s not going to affect your ability to be on the same team is it? You two flew well together while you were dating.” She looked over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s not too late?”

Harry let out a hollow laugh, doing his best to keep his calm expression intact. “I don’t think she wants anything to do with me after what I said,” he mumbled. The feeling of having his Firebolt cursed out from under him rose in his memory alongside the impact that had broken his ribs and punctured a lung and the sound of his friends fighting to keep him alive. Judging by the way Ron’s freckles stood out against his pale skin, and Hermione’s babbling attempt at shifting the conversation, similar thoughts were crashing their way through their minds.

“I…er…had my broom blown out from under me last year while we were gone.” He was positive the grin he tried to muster appeared as false as it felt. “I got splinters in places that are hardly meant for decent conversation. Haven’t been able to fly right since.”

Katie paled to match, and her arms slid off the top of the couch. “O-oh. Harry, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t like the fame the war had brought him, nor the adoration, but he hated the pity.

“I know where to come if I decide to brush up on the basics,” he said, injecting energy he didn’t have into his voice. “To be fair, I haven’t tried to fly much. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“Besides,” Ron chimed in, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment before moving over to Katie. “You don’t need him when you’ve got me.”

“You’re trying out for seeker?” Katie asked. Her blank expression was as flat as her voice.

Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I’m going in for keeper.”

Katie nodded thoughtfully, pushing wispy strands of her brown hair from the corner of her mouth. “You’re certainly tall enough. Hell, if you fly sideways you’d cover two goals just by sitting there.” She rose to her feet. “Tryouts are next week. I’ll see you there.” She rounded on Harry, a hand on her hip. “And I expect to see you at every single one of our games. It’ll be tough to win without you, and won’t be half as fun if you aren’t flying Malfoy into the dirt, but we’ll get it done.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not a yes,” she said, yawning. “Sorry. Didn’t sleep much last night. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Harry bid her goodnight, and followed her example soon after, waving to Ron and Hermione as they disappeared from view. Neville and Seamus’s beds sat empty in the near darkness, while impressive snores issued from Dean’s closed canopy. Harry dropped heavily onto his bed, and was soon asleep, shoes and all.

~~XxX~~

They filed into the defense room, bumping shoulders with the rest of their classmates as they passed through the doorway. At the head of the class stood Professor Martín, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. The polite smile she’d worn at her introduction during the opening feast was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she impassively scanned the class as they found their seats.

“This is NEWT level Defense against the Dark Arts,” she said as soon as the last student had sat down. Her voice was accented and quick, but clear. “Your lackluster education in this class has been made clear to me. It is telling that one of your most competent teachers was a Death Eater in disguise. A working, if perhaps not practical, knowledge of the Dark Arts, their effects, their counters, and their weaknesses is necessary to defend against them. Very little magic is inherently dark, and it is that magic that we will not cover. The rest you can expect to at least touch upon.”

Each step tapped against the cobbles as she walked the aisles between the desks. Her dark hair flowed as she paced, the hem of her flowing red robes brushing the ground.

“It is my job to ensure that you are able to pass both the practical and theoretical portions of the exam, and we only have a year to make up for your sub-par education. You will have homework, but you will not be writing so many inches of essays, or memorizing terms for tests. You will be expected to learn and improve as the term progresses. Most of all we will study dueling and understanding the Dark Arts in an effort to better counter them. Your practicum for your NEWT will be to face off against an Auror, and they will be the ones to decide if you pass or fail. If you do not show marked improvement in my class, I will not approve you to take the test.”

By the time she had finished her speech, she had returned to the front of the room, and finally let her arms fall down to her sides, the sleeves of her robes covering her hands.

“So!” she said loudly, again scanning the class. “Who can tell me the different ways I am unprepared for a duel?”

A feeling of rightness settled pleasantly over Harry as Hermione’s hand shot into the air next to him.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“How many do you want me to point out, Professor?”

“As many as you can.”

Hermione nodded, passing a critical glance over the teacher’s relaxed figure. “Your robe is going to cause you a few issues. It brushes the ground and you can step on it. It also covers your hands, which can impede you when initially pointing your wand. Your wand is on your desk, and not in a holster around your wrist. Your hair is loose and free, which in close quarters can be a liability for someone to distract or restrain you.” Harry noted the minor tremble in Hermione’s voice but kept to himself as she soldiered on. “Ideally you would cut your hair, but a tight bun would do the trick in a pinch. Your stance is loose and unsuited to effectively dodging a surprise curse. At best you can throw yourself roughly to the side which will be fatal against an experienced opponent.”

“Good eye, Miss Granger,” Professor Martín said with a faint smile. “Anything else?”

“You have on heels. No matter how experienced you are walking in them, dueling flat-footed is always preferred.”

“Very well noticed. Take fifteen points to Gryffindor.” She turned to address the rest of the class. “I hope every single one of you was paying attention. It is that level of attention to detail that will get you into the NEWTs. Now, who besides Miss Granger can tell me three of the most effective non-lethal spells to immobilize an opponent?”

She quizzed them for the rest of the class, each question growing more complex as they went until Hermione’s hand was the only one soaring into the air. By the end, Hermione had earned their house another ten points, much to the grumbled dissatisfaction of the handful of Hufflepuffs in their joint class. They were dismissed with admonitions to practice their wandwork with the basic spells and to keep an eye out for study groups they could join. Harry had barely stood when he heard the professor call his name.

“You too Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. If you would, please stay behind. I’ll write you passes should you need them.”

Harry dropped slowly back into his seat, sharing a quick look with his friends. Once the room had emptied, Professor Martín pulled her chair from behind her desk and sat down in front of them. “I’ll get right to the point as I’m not sure how the other Professors will feel about me writing tardy passes on my first week here. I’ve spoken with the Headmistress, and I got approval to reach out to you three to see if you would be interested in leading a supplemental study-group for your fellow Seventh-Years.”

“I take it you heard about the D.A.?” Harry asked.

“I did. I’ve only been living at Hogwarts for little over a month now, and already I’ve heard many stories of your fabled group.”

“I’m not sure ‘fabled’ is quite right,” he muttered.

“But Professor,” Hermione said. “Why would you need our help? Your class today was enjoyable and informative. You’re already leagues ahead of some of our other teachers.”

“That’s precisely why I’d like your help. It would take more than one term to undo the damage caused by years of inferior instruction, especially during your critical OWL year. It sounds as though you made great strides during the DA in helping your peers progress, but I was thinking of something a little more specialized. You would only be instructing other seventh-years on how to duel, and the best ways to protect themselves outside of a structured environment. I don’t need to tell you that dueling for real is far different from what we practice here. You three are uniquely qualified to help teach your fellow students the skills that might help them beat an Auror for their NEWT.”

Ron gave a lopsided smile and shrugged his shoulders. “We do have more…uh…recent practical experience.”

“Quite. That’s why I wanted to ask for your assistance. It will have no impact on your grade, or your ability to qualify for the NEWT should you choose not to help.” She nodded over to Hermione. “Your reputation precedes you. Should you consider putting your considerable interest in learning to a career in teaching, this would be an excellent experience.”

“I’m sure it would,” Hermione said as her gaze slid out a window and off into the distance. “I’ve always thought I’d go into government work, but it’s always good to explore other options.” She turned to Harry and Ron. “What do you two think?”

“If we’re able to use our experience for good-” Harry said, no small measure of guilt propelling the words from his mouth, “-then we probably should. Especially me, since I opted out of helping the Aurors and the Order.”

Hermione’s head snapped to stare at him, her mouth already half-open when Ron spoke up. “I’m still going to try out for Quidditch, but so long as the times don’t overlap, I don’t mind helping. With Harry there, I’m not sure I’ll really be necessary, but it’d be nice to make everything we went through worth a little something extra.”

“There’s no need to give me an answer today,” the Professor said, rising from her chair and walking over to her desk. She lifted a quill and began scratching on small pieces of parchment. “Just think about it and let me know. If you want to, we’ll figure out a time and place, and I’ll tell my other seventh-year classes that it’s something they can attend if they so desire.”

“I’ll do it,” Harry said, grabbing the tardy pass she offered him. Maybe he could finally quiet whatever part of him that screamed selfishness into the small hours of the morning, instead of allowing him to sleep. “And I already know the place.”

“O-okay,” Professor Martín said, straightening in surprise. “I thought it’d be a bit of a harder sell than that. Come see me this weekend and we’ll go over details.”

~~XxX~~

Harry and Ron wandered the halls that evening, occasionally stopping to greet some of the younger students that stopped to say hi to the veritable celebrities. Ron watched a group of sixth-year girls turn the corner, and shook his head slowly. “Are you sure you don’t want to go study in the library with Hermione?” he asked, clapping Harry hard on the shoulder. “I appreciate your company, but no-one is going to look twice at me when you’re around, mate.”

Harry laughed. “You’re getting right down to it, huh? You weren’t kidding about coming back to look for a girlfriend.”

Ron shrugged as they resumed their walk. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said a touch defensively. “It’s been almost a year now you know. A year. I kinda miss having a girlfriend. Lavender isn’t the greatest conversationalist, but then again, neither am I. But she was…I dunno…sweet. I miss that.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Harry said, staring out one of the windows as they passed, the treetops of the forbidden forest barely visible in the wan moonlight. “I know what you mean.”

Awkward silence faded into a more companionable sort as they continued their trek through the castle. 

“You are  _ impossible _ to find,” a familiar voice called out from behind them as they turned down the Charms corridor. They spun around to find Tracey doubled over, wheezing. “I don’t know if I’ve ever climbed that many stairs in a single day. Are your legs made of metal?”

“Just used to walking,” Harry said with a shrug. “What’d you need?”

She took a deep breath and straightened, fixing them both with a wide smile. “Both of you, actually. Potter, do you remember what I said at the award ceremony?”

“To…give Greengrass another chance?”

“Exactly. Well, she’s stuck on her project, and I think this is where you come in. She’s in the library, and probably will be until a bit after curfew. Now’s your chance!”

“Now’s my-?” Harry tried but was cut short by a not-so-gentle shove from Ron. 

“Yeah, mate. Besides, you’d said you wanted to check on Hermione too, right?”

“I didn’t-”

Ron winked surreptitiously, though to Harry it seemed more of an accidental grimace. “Tell Hermione I’ll have her notes back to her tomorrow. She’s been on me about that.”

Harry let out a sigh and allowed himself to be shooed away, the sound of Tracey’s excited voice echoing the halls as she led Ron around a corner and out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

His long walk to the library yielded little speculation about his summons. What it had provided, was a great big empty hole in his mind where Daphne Greengrass was meant to sit. Beyond noticing her throughout the years, most especially during his fifth year after he’d finally gotten over his small crush on Cho, he realized he knew next to nothing about the beautiful girl. A small flicker of hope had roared to life at the thought. Ron’s plan to find a girlfriend wasn’t the most…standard reason for coming back to Hogwarts, but he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d understood his friend’s desire for a partner. He’d put those hopes to rest by the time he turned the corner into the library. He doubted someone who was interested in him would be so curt during their meeting at the award ceremony.

He slid through the narrow paths through the tall bookshelves on autopilot, his mind wandering as his feet found Hermione’s favorite nook. Sure enough, as though nothing had ever happened, she sat in a corner surrounded by stacks of books, three open at once in front of her, with a fourth floating off to her left.

“Hermione,” he said, approaching slowly as not to startle her. Once upon a time, she’d been so oblivious to the world that he’d almost had to shake her to bring her out of her studies. He’d found out a few days earlier at sudden wand-point that she was much more aware of her surroundings now.

Despite his efforts, she jumped a little as she spun to face him, the tension fleeing her face when she saw who it was. “Harry? What are you doing here? I’m not going to believe you’ve come to study already.”

Harry shook his head and slid into the chair next to her. He pushed one of the towers of books out of his way and rested his elbow on the desktop. “You’ve got me there. I actually got sent here to meet up with Daphne Greengrass. I realized I don’t know much about her, and wanted to see if you did.”

“You got sent to meet with Daphne? By whom?”

“Tracey, her friend.”

Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared behind her wild brown fringe, and she pursed her lips in thought. “I saw them approach you and Ron and the ceremony, but I figured that it was pretty normal considering the oddity of the event itself. But to also approach you at school? That’s a little strange. Do you think they’re up to something?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “At the ceremony, Tracey said Daphne was working on some project, and then a bit earlier she told me she needed help with it. Seems like I’m ‘just the person she needs.’”

Hermione stared at him incredulously. “What? Does she need another Dark Lord slain?”

“I doubt it. I figured I’d try to help her out with whatever it is. They got the Second Class Order of Merlin, so they fought on our side during the battle. That’s good enough reason for me to at least hear them out. Besides, Slytherin might be a bit more tolerable without Malfoy there to stink it up.”

“We  _ have _ been blissfully free of insults.” She pointed a finger to the far corner of the library, furthest away from the entrance and Madam Pince’s desk. “She’s in here more often than I am. She usually sits back there, whatever she’s working on spread out across the entire desk. I believe what Tracey said about her working on a project, that’s for sure. Whatever it is, it’s either incredibly important or incredibly difficult. I’d wager both, to be honest. Some of the books she checks out are some pretty high-level theories of magic.”

“I’d almost rather the Dark Lord,” Harry grumbled. “At least I’m good at dueling. I’d be rubbish at that theoretical stuff.”

“Well, if it’s not something private, let me know what it is. I’ve been dying to find out what it was for years.”

“Couldn’t you just ask her?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably beneath his question and darted a quick glance in the direction of Daphne’s corner. “I did once, during fifth year. She told me it was none of my business. So I snooped around a bit, and she caught me.” Hermione shrugged weakly. “She can be a little intimidating. Beyond asking me about a certain book every now and then, I’ve spoken maybe a dozen words to her in all the years we’ve been here. Some of the girls started calling her the Ice Queen. They stopped when she hexed them into the hospital wing.”

“Working on a project, and intimidating. Got it.” Harry stood up and ran his hands down the front of his robes to straighten them.

“And  _ very _ pretty,” Hermione added dryly, offering him a tight smile. “Be careful. There are a lot of things people could want from you, and we know very little about her. If you want, I can try to keep an eye on you.”

“It doesn’t feel all that suspicious, so I doubt you’ll see anything worthwhile,” he said. “Nothing wrong with finding out what she wants.” He paused. “Oh, Ron said he’d get you your notes back soon.”

Her face screwed up into a picture of confusion. “My notes? I told him if he wasn’t even going to try to make his own, he didn’t get to copy mine. What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind.” Feeling more than slightly foolish, Harry slid back out into the aisles with a quick wave to Hermione and made his way to the back of the library. He pretended not to see a couple spring apart as he passed, a skill he’d learned early on during his late-night walks beneath the invisibility cloak. He'd always looked away out of embarrassment at first, and as he got older, he realized he wouldn’t want someone invisible staring at him when he was…occupied.

His train of thought vanished as he reached the final aisle before the back wall. Rather than Hermione’s neat stack of books, or even Ron’s signature ‘leave it where it lands’ method of studying, the back row looked as though an entire bookstore exploded across the long table. Individual pieces of parchment were piled haphazardly across its length, interspersed with small piles of books of various sizes. The one on top of the nearest pile read: ' _ Ritualistic Alterations: Additive and Subtractive Methodology _ .' Maybe she just needed some organizational help. Though he definitely wasn’t the person for that job.

Daphne sat amidst what seemed to be the beginnings of a cocoon of books, hunched over a thick tome in front of her. Her left hand held a quill, the feather flashing as her hand flew down the page. The scratch of the nib on parchment bounced off the stone wall behind her, amplifying the rough sound. Her long blond hair hung down as a curtain across her face, shielding him from her view.

For lack of a more natural introduction, Harry cleared his throat loudly from the aisle. Daphne’s speedy quill strokes came to a halt, and she turned her head slowly, pushing her hair from her eyes with a free hand. Dark circles stood out below sharp blue eyes that pinned him to the spot with their instant intense scrutiny.

Maybe she needed a pepper-up potion. The hospital wing was a little more up his alley than involved research.

“Potter.” She set her quill down as she leaned back in her chair. “What do you want?”

“Tracey told me to come to find you. She said you wanted to see me about something?”

A long sigh escaped her, one that transformed into a short yawn as she stared blankly ahead. “I can’t say I’m surprised she did, though it is a little premature.”

“Did you…er…need help with all this?” he asked, waving an arm across the disaster that lay before them.

“Organizing you mean? No. I can get what I need.”

“How?” The question escaped him before he could reel it back.

She stared at him a moment, before producing her wand from her sleeve. “I’m a witch. I summon it.”

“Right.”

“I actually need help procuring a certain book. I recently made my final offer and if it’s not accepted, which I expect it won’t be, I’ll need to find another avenue. That is where you would come in.”

“You need my help…buying a book?”

“I’m aware of how it sounds,” she snapped. “If I were getting a copy of Beedle the Bard I wouldn’t be asking you, would I? It’s one of two in existence. That I’m aware of anyway.”

“Okay. So what would I need to do?”

One delicate eyebrow raised above a confused stare. “Just like that?”

“I don’t mind helping people,” he said with a shrug. “I assume it’s important to you, considering how much time this must take, and how long it seems you’ve been working on it.”

Daphne’s head bobbed slowly, her hair swinging gently with the motion. “I suppose you wouldn’t. If you can get me this book, then I’ll owe you a favor of similar import.”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. Within reason, of course,” she said, fixing him with her steely blue gaze. “I’m fair, but not an idiot. We’re about to leave school, so depending on whether you’re successful at getting me the book, you may be able to ask for a Wizengamot vote.” She paused, then shrugged. “Though I doubt House Black needs much help.”

“What’s in this book that’s so important that you’d give a vote for?” He pushed away the repulsion he felt at the idea of sitting through more sessions of the Wizengamot than strictly necessary.

“Keep asking questions and wasting my time and you’ll be lucky to get a handshake. I’ll let you know if I require your assistance.”

Such summary dismissal had him turning on the spot and walking away before he could help himself, and by then there was no choice but to keep going for pride’s sake. He stopped at Hermione’s spot to find it empty, her space left as immaculate as if she’d not been there at all. He made his way slowly back to Gryffindor tower, glad for his foresight to bring along the Marauder’s Map when he’d originally left with Ron. As he waited in a secret passage, dodging another prefect, he scanned the map, taking care not to pay too close attention to the couples off on their own. He saw Neville stepping through the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Hermione’s marker sitting alone in the common room. He made a mental note to ask Neville where he’d been. He’d seen little of the secondary leader of the DA since the battle and had hoped to catch up a bit after their year apart. Once the prefect’s steps faded away, he slid out from his hiding place and set out.

Harry stepped through the portrait hole to a greeting from Ron and Hermione. He joined them at the large chairs, dropping down onto the empty couch.

“I don’t know about you, mate, but Tracey talked my ear off,” Ron said, slumping back into his chair. “I only just got back.”

“How dreadful for you,” Hermione jabbed. “Someone who wants to talk to you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

“Dunno if I want to be talked at for the rest of my life,” he grumbled. “But she’s nice. We’re going to meet up again this weekend.”

“That’s good to hear,” Hermione said with a nod. “First impressions are important, but there is often much more to a person than that.” She turned to Harry, a curious glint in her brown eyes. “How did your meet-up with Daphne go? Did you find out what she’s working on?”

“No, I didn’t. From the state of things, I couldn’t even guess. She wants my help to buy a book…maybe.”

“-to buy a book…maybe,” Hermione echoed, a concentrated frown wrinkling her chin. “What book?”

“She didn’t say. Seems like Tracey found me a bit earlier than she wanted. She doesn’t quite need me yet.”

Ron stretched, his shins bumping against the small table in front of him. “Well, it seems easy enough. Could be some super dark grimoire or something, but I don’t think she’d ask for help for something like that.” He sobered, looking between Harry and Hermione. “We are back at school now y’know. We don’t have to be all…hyper-vigilant all the time anymore.”

Hermione let out a long sigh, tugging at a tangled lock of her hair. “I know. But can you blame me? Going to school here has never been smooth sailing for us.”

“Then it sounds like we’re due a good year,” Ron said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll see you both in the morning. I’m knackered. Talking to people takes more out of you than you’d think it would.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry said, standing to join Ron. “I’m beat.”

They called a quick goodnight to Hermione as they ascended the stairs up to the seventh-year dorms. They cracked the door to find Neville and Dean still awake, each sitting at the side of their bed chatting away.

“Harry!” Neville called, waving him over. “I haven’t seen much of you outside of class. How is it being back?”

“A bit weird,” he admitted, sitting down on the bed next to Neville. Ron took a spot opposite him, next to Dean. “I keep seeing places where I fought Death Eaters, but there’s some little firsty running through it. Takes some getting used to.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean said, jerking a thumb over to Seamus’ empty bed. “Place just isn’t right without his ugly mug. I got word from him today though. Says the rehab on the new leg is working out pretty well. He should be back before too long.”

“Did you ask him if he got a wooden one like Moody’s like I asked you to?” asked Ron.

Dean laughed. “He said he asked for one, but they wouldn’t go for it.”

Harry turned to Neville as the laughter faded. “I haven’t seen you around much Nev. You been busy in the greenhouses?”

To Harry’s surprise, Neville turned red as a tomato and stared down at his hands. “I’ve been…erm…s-spending time with Luna,” he said.

“You two are together?” Ron burst out. “You and Luna?”

Neville’s brows drew together and his eyes flashed as he glared at Ron. “Don’t be like that. She’s incredible.”

“I’m not sayin’ she’s not,” Ron backpedaled, his hands up defensively in front of him. “It’s just a surprise. How long?”

Neville wobbled his hand out in front of him. “Since about halfway through last year? Things were pretty crazy, so we couldn’t really get to it properly till the summer.”

“Good for you,” Harry said, clapping Neville on the back. “I think you two make a good pair.”

“I’ve got a girlfriend back home,” Dean said, scuffing his foot on the ground. “She’s a muggle, so it’s tough, but we’re trying to make it work.”

“Does she know you’re a wizard?” asked Neville.

“Nah. I can see why people tend to date other magical folk though. It feels like you’re lyin’ to them all the time when they’re a muggle.”

“That sounds…rough,” Harry said. “You can’t exactly owl her either.”

“I owl the letters to my mum, and she sends ‘em along. Laura has an address that goes to some mailbox that sends the letters to my mum’s, and she owls them to me.”

“I don’t really envy you,” Ron said. “It’s good you’ve got a girl you’re happy with though, right?”

Dean nodded slowly, his gaze falling somewhere towards his lap.

“Ron’s just about got one,” Harry said, dangling the bait in front of Dean who gladly bit.

“Quick worker, huh,” he said. “Let me guess.” He tapped his chin for a moment, before snapping his fingers. “Bulstrode.”

“Closer than you’d think,” Ron said, glancing quickly to Harry, then back at Dean. “But it’s not a thing yet. We’ve only talked twice.”

“Goyle.”

“You can’t date someone in Azkaban,” Ron said with a laugh. He glanced over to Seamus’ bed. “You know, Dean. You can’t claim it’s always Seamus starting the girl talk now.”

“Hey! Neville started it, bragging on about his new girlfriend.”

“I-what? She’s pretty great, but I wasn’t bragging about it.”

“Disgusting,” Ron said good-naturedly. He stood, wandered over to his bed, and dropped down onto it. “As exciting as all this is, I’m exhausted.”

Three voices muttered their agreement, each one slipping into their own beds. Behind his canopy, Harry felt his smile slowly fade. He was happy for Neville and Luna, but a small pit of loneliness began to grow in his chest. He’d missed being with Ginny during the Horcrux hunt, but he’d not realized how much fleeing for your life for months upon months kept him from realizing just how much. He rolled over and away from the thoughts. He’d put away any idea he’d had of trying to reunite with Ginny at Fred’s funeral. He couldn’t even blame her. It was like Hermione said; ‘Hurt people hurt people.’ It was a slow and fitful sleep that finally took him.


	4. Chapter 4

“You said you had a place already in mind?” Professor Martín crouched down, shuffling through one of the bottom drawers of her desk. She pulled a sheet out and duplicated it with a quick tap of her wand before adding one to an already considerable pile sitting in front of her.

“It’s where we held the D.A. meetings. It’ll accommodate however many people we need it to. If it’s just seventh-years, we won’t have nearly as many as we did for the D.A,” Harry said, eying the growing stack of parchment. “What’s all this?”

“Some, but not all of my lesson plans and notes on previous years’ NEWTs. I’m well aware of your unparalleled proficiency in dueling, but skill in a subject does not make one able to teach that subject. I thought it might be beneficial for you to see how I structure the lessons, then adapt it to what you want to show during your study sessions.” A small smile crossed her features. “I will admit, I had expected to be giving these to Miss Granger, rather than you.”

Harry shrugged. “She’s been really into studying for her other NEWTs. She said she’d help me teach the group, and figured I’d be able to relay whatever we talked about today.”

“Her dedication to her studies is certainly commendable. A teacher’s dream come true.”

Harry laughed mirthlessly. “You should’ve met our old potions teacher. He’d have disagreed.”

“Yes…I’ve also heard stories of Severus. From what I’ve heard, I’m quite glad I do not have to work with him, though I’d rather that have come about in a different way, to be sure.”

Harry nodded, trying to banish the feeling of Snape’s feeble final shudder from his arms.

“Well,” she said, clapping her hands together and making him jump in surprise. “On a more cheery note, I think this is everything. When were you planning on starting?”

“It’ll take me a little while to go over everything. Next Friday? Then I have almost two full weeks to look it over and make a plan.”

“I’ll let the other seventh-years know. Where is this room?”

“I’ll show you. It may come in handy in the future for some of your classes.”

~~XxX~~

After leaving a rather impressed Professor Martín to explore the capabilities of the Room of Requirement, Harry made a quick stop at the dorms to drop off his stack of lesson plans. He set off from Gryffindor tower at a quick jog, taking the stairs two at a time as he headed for the Quidditch pitch. If he hurried, he’d still be able to make the tail end of tryouts. He ignored the shouts of surprise as he sped by, picking up the pace. Surely there was a shortcut he could duck into nearby…

“Potter!” 

Her voice echoed down the short hall, stalling the conversations that drifted in from the nearby courtyard. Conversations he knew would soon carry their names within them. He stopped and turned to find Daphne striding toward him, her golden hair billowing out behind her quick steps. Her robes clung to her as she walked, a breeze blowing them and her hair to the side as she passed in front of the courtyard opening.

“Greengrass,” he replied in kind once she’d come to a stop in front of him. She looked up at him, her unwavering blue gaze locked on his own. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes, and another breeze carried with it the distinct tang of shampoo. 

“The bookseller has declined to sell to me, despite my generous offers.”

“And now you need me to try and get it for you?”

Her eyebrows drew together as she moved around him, and he fell into step as was so clearly expected. “I do. However, I’m not sure it would be a good idea to let them know you’re trying to get it for me.”

“They didn’t want to sell to you specifically?” he said, dodging a second-year that went sprinting down the hall.

“They alluded to as much. It’s bad form to say so directly, and we’d been having proper and polite negotiations even up until the refusal. They were cordial but clear.”

“Why don’t they want to sell you the book?”

She glanced over at him as they turned a corner. His ears picked up the telltale whispers of gossip as a small gaggle of Hufflepuffs did their best to attempt nonchalance as they passed by.

“In short, he pointed to the rumors that surrounded my family’s stance during the war, as well as my actions during the battle a few months ago.”

Harry frowned down at her. “But you helped. That’s a good thing.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and she pressed her lips together. “Morally, yes, but rather differently aligned to how my father conducts our business. When you’re dealing with items of debatable ethical content, unpredictability is liability.”

"'Debatable ethical content?’ What exactly is this book?”

“It’s only debatable because so many spells within the same classification of magic are rather sinister. But, there is an argument to be made that there are some charms that can be quite nasty if used for ill. Many spells are not inherently dark, it’s the intent that drives them.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling his heels dig into the ground. He was no stranger to the run-around. “But what is the book. How am I supposed to get it for you if I don’t know what it’s called?”

He felt oddly victorious when she narrowed her eyes at him, before letting out a quick sigh.

“It’s an unedited version of a book called Magick Moste Evile. I’ve been forced to look into soul magic for my research, and there is precious little in the library, or elsewhere for that matter. I’m told Hogwarts used to own one of the edited copies, but it’s gone missing. From what I’ve been able to uncover, there is a lot of purely dark spells in that book, but I’d wager every last galleon I’ve got that it’s the soul magic portion that was edited.”

Her words were lost to the thunderous pulse in his ears. Hundreds of miles and a year away, firelight reflected off his eyes as he watched a book burn deep in the forests of Scandinavia.

“Potter?” The insistent tapping of a foot brought him back to an angry frown directed up at him. “I’m not out here for the fun of it. I’d appreciate it if you paid attention.”

“Sorry. The title was a bit of a surprise,” he answered. Part of the truth was always better than a lie. “So I’m supposed to get you this book, and then you’ll owe me some as-yet-undetermined favor? And I’m supposed to take it on faith that you’re going to ignore all those other dark spells you just mentioned?”

“Yes.” The surety of her statement gave pause to his incredulity. “Why else would I pin a potential vote on it? That's not exactly an easily acquired commodity. I know we don’t know each other very well at all, but allow me to assure you that I’m not in the habit of lying.”

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “We don’t know each other very well. Which means that I’ll need to think about it. I can’t promise anything. That name is…a bit much.”

“Yes, I thought that might be a sticking point for you. I understand your hesitation, but I ask that you consider it as quickly as possible. My project is somewhat time-sensitive.”

“I can’t make any promises. How long have you got?”

Her unwavering gaze lost a bit of its steel and her focus slid off to somewhere far away. “Not as long as I’d like.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, pulling her back to the conversation. “And I’ll let you know either way.”

“Thank you.”

Without so much as a goodbye, she spun around and strode away. She didn’t even so much as a glance at the students who chittered excitedly as she passed. With a heavy sigh, he turned and started walking in the opposite direction. He pulled the map from his robes and scanned it for Ron and Hermione’s names. It would seem they still had some more work to do to ensure they were the last to deal with a dark wizard empowered by Horcruxes.

~~XxX~~

It wasn’t until that evening that Harry would be able to pin down both Ron and Hermione alone. They sat in a rather small configuration of the room of requirement; three comfortable chairs surrounding a small table. Hermione stared anxiously at him, her nerves wound tight at his refusal to speak of whatever could be so urgent. Ron, on the other hand, seemed torn between curiosity, and a grin that seemed to grow unbidden across his face.

“Well?” Hermione asked, the last small thread she had on her control snapping under the tension. “You look as though you’ve been told someone has died. What’s going on?”

“No-one has died,” he assured her. “But it’s about as serious as that.”

Ron’s dreamy smile finally fled his face, and he focused on Harry. “War-related, I take it?”

Harry nodded, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “So, you know how Greengrass wanted my help with getting a book?” He was met with two nods. He took a deep breath. No sense in mincing words. “The book she wants is an unedited copy of Magick Moste Evile and I have a guess as to which part was edited.”

“Well that’s just ruddy brilliant,” Ron grumbled, dropping a fist onto the arm of his chair. “How on earth am I supposed to date her best friend if she’s looking into Horcruxes?”

“You and Tracey?” Harry said, the revelation catching him off guard. That wasn’t quite the reaction he’d been expecting. “Erm…congratulations?”

“Thanks, but not yet. I was hoping…and now how am I supposed to know she’s not talking to me for some other reason? How do they know that we know something?”

“They don’t,” Hermione said, her lips pursed tightly together. “It would be impossible for them to have made the connection. We kept it between us, and Cedric, not to mention I didn’t check the book out from the library, I stole it. So there isn’t even a record of where it went. Did she say what she wanted it for?”

“She said she needed it for the soul magic portion. Supposedly it’s a difficult subject to find information about.”

“For good reason,” Ron grumbled. “What in the hell is she working on that needs soul magic of all things?”

“Speculation will get us nowhere,” said Hermione. She twirled one curly strand of hair around her finger as she squinted off into the middle-distance, her eyes shifting quickly back and forth. “I can think of one or two spells that are loosely related to soul magic that isn’t sinister in any way. We can choose to give her the benefit of the doubt or choose to be suspicious, but either way, we need more information. At worst, we’ve been put on the trail of this book, and we can find and destroy it as soon as we get our hands on it.”

“Shouldn’t we just get rid of it now?” Ron asked. “Why wait?”

Harry frowned. He could already hear their retorts. “I’m not so sure we should without finding out what’s in it. What if it’s something that can actually help her. Whatever it is, she’s been working on it for years. It must be important.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at him. “You can’t ignore how big a deal this is just because she’s an attractive girl! Bellatrix was a pretty girl once too!”

“I doubt Daphne is the embodiment of insanity that Bellatrix was,” Harry said, matching Hermione’s glare. “I’m not throwing caution to the wind because of a ‘pretty girl.’ I think we should check out the book before we destroy it, and see if it can help her with whatever it is she’s working on. If she’s been working on it for seven years, and she’s found the need to ask me of all people for help. I need to help her if I can.”

After a moment of thought, Hermione nodded slowly, letting her hand drop to her lap. “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with finding out what she needs it for. I can’t imagine a world where the answer to whatever problem she has is a Horcrux of all things, so I might be worrying over nothing.”

“I’ll see what I can find out next time I get the chance to talk to her. I already told her it’d take me some time to make a decision. It wouldn’t be strange to ask some follow-up questions.”

Ron mimicked Hermione’s slow nod, though the frown that crossed his features was one of sadness. “I’ll see what I can get out of Tracey too.”

“Don’t,” Harry said. “Just because we can’t stop looking for traps everywhere doesn’t mean that you should ruin whatever it is you two might have. If the answers Daphne gives me are suspicious, then maybe, but until then, I think we should assume the best, but plan for the worst. If her motives aren’t up to snuff, we can buy the book, then destroy it.”

“I’ll fit some research into beneficial soul magic into my NEWT studies. My ancient runes class had a history section early on that said they were used in rituals for strengthening the body. It’d be easy to use that as an excuse to study up on it. The NEWT is for us to find and perform a runic ritual to the point before completion anyway.”

“And I’ll have Dobby look through the Black library. I’m not sure they’d have beneficial soul magic books in there, but who knows, there may be some theory books or something. It’s an impressive collection.”

“I’ll just…” Ron trailed off.

“You can have my back if it all goes sideways,” Harry said. “This might be all in our head, and she wants it for legitimate reasons. She said herself she doesn’t actually know what’s in the book.”

“So she claims,” Hermione muttered.

“Assume the best, prepare for the worst,” Harry repeated, Cedric’s favorite phrase slipping from his lips out of habit. “Besides, you’ll have a tough time finding information in front of the Quidditch goalposts.”

Ron grinned, the frustration sliding from his clenched jaw and tight shoulders. “I did do pretty well. Katie said she’d have the new team posted by tomorrow.”

“I’m happy for you,” Hermione said, “but there are more important things out there than Quidditch.”

Rather than one of his usual quips, Ron turned to look at Hermione, his blue eyes stormy beneath drawn brows. “I fought for a lot of things.” His voice was soft but firm. “Being able to come back and enjoy Quidditch is one of them.”

~~XxX~~

It was a few days before he found himself loitering outside the library…again. There were thankfully no lingering students to point and giggle at him as he strode around Madam Pince’s desk and down the narrow aisles towards the back. As she had been before, Daphne sat amidst her mess of books and parchment, this time surrounded by a half-dozen floating books, each slowly turning a page when she pointed a wand at it. He cleared his throat, wincing when she jumped and shot a glare at him that was clearly meant to at least wound, if not kill.

“Ah. It’s you. Do you have my answer?”

“No. Not yet,” he said, suppressing the maddening urge to fidget beneath her stolid gaze. “But I was here about it, I suppose. I wanted to get to know you a bit better. That’d put my mind at ease about picking up a book with a title like that for you.”

Despite his perfectly reasonable explanation, her glare intensified to the point where he felt his hackles rise. “Were you the one who started those rumors, or have you fallen for their lies? I don't owe you anything of myself.”

“Those dating rumors you mean?” he asked, some of the tension leaving his body. “Of course not. I’m not all that surprised it started after people saw us talking the other day. It’s not my first go-around with the rumor-mill, so I’d not paid it much attention.”

“Nor is it mine. I am used to the Ice Queen name and its rumors, but this is new, and it has emboldened people to interrupt me and ask questions that I do not have time for.”

Harry nodded, grabbing tight to the small thread of conversation. “I’d heard they used to call you that.”

“They still call me that, only where I cannot hear them. So long as I am undisturbed, it matters little to me.”

He felt the thread snap, taking his patience with it. “I take it that’s a hint?”

A roll of her eyes met his question, and she turned back to her books. “I’ve simply asked you for a favor, nothing more. Do it or don’t, but don’t waste my time.”

He turned to leave and felt a sudden burning need to have the last word sitting on his tongue. He didn’t have to play nice for someone who wasn’t going to offer him common courtesy. An angry glare met his continued presence, and the words tumbled from his mouth. “Do you think you’ll look back with regret on your time here? Stuck in the back corner of the library while your entire school experience passes you by? Time you could’ve spent with friends? I’d have given anything for the opportunity that you’re squandering.”

A blank stare and silence was his reply, and he tried not to stomp away. The last word hadn’t felt nearly as fulfilling as he had hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it! Looks like I'm doing this on a daily basis. I hope you'll like just shy of 2 weeks of daily updates! There are 18 chapters in total, but the final one is an epilogue, so 17 and 18 will be put up together.
> 
> I did forget to mention in the first note, concrit is welcome. I set a lot of goals and challenges for this piece, and tried to tie in things I had learned from my first fic. It'd be great to know where it still needs improvement!

A trip to Hogsmeade that weekend was the perfect break from the laborious effort of going through Professor Martín’s numerous and disorganized lesson plans. He’d spent most evenings after his less-than-stellar conversation in the library planning for the first session of his study group, and making sure to expend as little energy as possible wondering just what the hell was Daphne’s problem. He shook his head to clear her from his thoughts, taking care to step around a distracted couple walking much too slowly down the crowded Hogsmeade thoroughfare. His thoughts carried him around the corner and down towards Honeydukes. Some sweets might do wonders for his souring mood.

As he drew closer to the brightly colored shop and the students milling about outside, he saw a tall mop of red hair step out of the shop and catch sight of him. Ron waved him over, one hand held behind him as he pulled a giggling Tracey through the crowd behind him.

“At least I’ll never lose you in a large group like that,” she said, craning her neck to look up at Ron from her place close to his side. “At my height, it can be a problem.”

“I like your height,” Ron said as they stopped in front of Harry.

She let out a quick laugh. “Never let it be said that you aren’t smooth.”

Harry glanced down at their hands intertwined between them, then back up at Ron. “Well, this is new.”

“Just today,” Ron said, a quick grin flashing across his face. “You were right. I needed to loosen up.”

“He’s lucky I know how to act on a hint,” Tracey said, glancing up at Ron. “The rate he was bumbling about I’d be lucky to have a date for Valentines.”

Ron simply shrugged in reply.

“As for you,” she continued, turning her adoring gaze over to Harry where it cooled a few hundred degrees. “You really know how to get under her skin, don’t you?”

Harry felt his rising mood drop at the reminder. “She’s got an odd way of asking for a favor.”

“To you, maybe. You Gryffindors and your loyalty. If someone proves themselves to you, you’ll go to the ends of the earth for them. It’s much simpler if you just make a trade.”

“Do you even know what it is she wants from me?” he asked.

“I…no.” A pout crossed her face. “Daph tends to operate on a need-to-know basis, even with me. It’s part of being a big-planner type.”

“A what?” Ron said, frowning down at them. She extricated her hand from his to a soft grunt of disapproval in response.

“There are four types in Slytherin. I’m not surprised you two don’t know considering your…history with certain members of our house.” She held up a hand and began to number them off. “There are big-planners like Daphne, and like Draco wanted to be. Leaders like Blaise and Voldemort. Manipulators who use people to get what they want. And followers, like myself, and Draco’s little buddies. Though I have to say, tagging along with Daph is a far sight better than I expect doing Draco’s bidding must’ve been.”

“How do you tag along when she doesn’t leave the library?”

“It’s not tagging along in the traditional sense and more of helping her out when she needs it. I’ve been relaying messages to you, haven’t I?”

“She came and found me the other day though,” he protested, feeling unaccountably mulish.

“That’s because it’s polite to make a request of someone in person. Listen, I think you could be a big help to her project, so I talked to her a bit. I know it’s easy to start arguing with her, but give her another chance. Her project is important, and not just to her.”

“What is it?” he asked, voicing the question he’d come back around to time and again over his week-long attempted avoidance of the issue.

She shrugged apologetically in response, and let her hand drop back to her side. Ron quickly snatched it in his own, eliciting a smile from her. “I can’t tell you. Sorry. It’s pretty private, so it’s not up to me who knows. It’s barely up to her, to be honest.”

He suppressed the urge to scuff his foot across the stone path. “Well, that’s no help.”

“I’ve done all I can for you,” she said. “And for her. I’d really love to see her done with this too, so give her a chance, would ya?”

Harry glanced over to Ron, who gave a minute shrug.

“I know she can be a bit hardheaded-”

“A bit.”

“-but she’ll come around. Nothing is more important than her plan, and she’s running out of time. Just because you drive her nuts doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need your help.”

“I drive her-?!”

“ _Relax_ , Potter,” she interrupted with a laugh. “Anybody that distracts her drives her nuts, so don’t worry about it. She’ll never say it, but I will; I appreciate your help.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair. “I might have an idea that could work. I don’t know if she’ll like it, but I guess we’ll see.”

“Thanks,” Tracey said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’ll let her know! Now, we’re off to the Three Broomsticks, and you aren’t invited. See you around!”

“Have fun,” he said, responding to Ron’s excited grin with one of his own. He felt an unexpected lump jump into his throat as he watched Ron get dragged away by an excitable girl over a head shorter than him. Ron had been right. It was that sort of thing that they’d been fighting for. For the chance to get led around on a first date holding hands. It was heartening to see it happening. Besides, having an argument with a classmate hardly compared to a Basilisk or Dementors, so Ron wasn’t the only one on the right track.

He turned back towards Honeydukes, a sense of renewed vigor in his step. No sense in fuming around Hogsmeade when things were finally going how he wanted them to go and his biggest responsibility was an easier version of the D.A. A few celebratory chocolates wouldn’t go amiss.

~~XxX~~

His happy revelation carried him through the week to the first meeting of the new study group. True to Professor Martín’s predictions, the majority of the seventh-year students showed up for practice. Harry ran a critical eye over the group and felt a thrill of surprise as he saw Daphne standing next to Tracey and Blaise, her arms folded across her middle. He found himself oddly pleased that he’d chosen a demonstration for their first lesson.

“Alright everyone!” he called out, holding his hands up for quiet. The hum of conversation slowly slipped away until all eyes were on him, Hermione, and Ron who all stood on a raised dais in the middle of the room. “We’ve talked it over, and we think it’s best if you get a demonstration of the sorts of dueling we’ll be working towards.”

Excitement rippled through the small crowd, more than one whisper of ‘You-Know-Who’ drifting up to his ears.

“Ron and I will be dueling each other,” he continued before the extra chatter could get too out of hand. “You already know we’ll be casting spells, so don’t focus on what spell we’re casting. We’ll go over spell choice later. Try to focus on the differences to what you’d expect from a more traditional duel.”

Hermione stepped down from the dais and moved to join the rest of the students, scooting them back to allow Harry and Ron ample space for their mock duel. Ron bounced on the balls of his feet, shaking his hands loose at his sides.

“You nervous?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Ron shot back. “I’ve got to duel a Dark Lord killer, _and_ my new girlfriend is watching. Don’t suppose you’ll let me win?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “This was your idea. Besides, you said we weren’t going all out.”

“Damn right we’re not,” Ron said with a laugh. “I don’t want to die. We do have to go pretty hard though, don’t we? We’ve got to show them what they’re working towards, and how the stuff you’re teaching will help. That’s the whole reason you’re doing this, right?”

Harry nodded and dropped his wand into his hand with a quick flick of his wrist.

“Are you two ready?” Hermione asked from where she stood in front of the assembled students, her wand clutched in her right hand. When she received the affirmative, she produced a large shield charm in front of the bystanders with a quick wave of her wand.

“Three, two, one, go!”

A stunner left Ron’s wand on the word ‘go’ to be easily redirected with a flick of Harry’s wrist. The spell impacted against Hermione’s shield and vanished.

“Just one stunner?” Harry asked, lowering his wand a little to stare puzzled at his friend.

Ron shrugged in reply. “I wasn’t sure how to start it off. All the duels we used to get into usually kicked off with the killing curse.”

“Fair point.” Harry thought for a moment, before raising his wand at his friend. “Remember taking down Lucius at Malfoy Manor? I’ll start the way he started, minus the unforgivables, then we can go from there.”

Ron nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, his face paling slightly at the memory of the failed raid on Malfoy Manor.

“Here I come. _Stupefy! Reducto! Stupefy!_ ”

Ron blurred into motion, his arm moving wildly to catch and rebound the incoming spells. Harry pointed his wand at the ground for the last part of Lucius’ opening volley. “ _Bombarda Maxima!_ ”

The resulting explosion dug a deep trench into the floor sending fragments of stone soaring through the air. Ron covered his head and dove out of the way, landing in a smooth somersault to bring himself back up onto one knee.

“ _Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Reducto!_ ”

Ron’s spells impacted uselessly against Harry’s shield. His body reacted before he had the opportunity to think, dropping the shield and sending a quick volley of nonverbal stunners at his friend.

Another parry sent two of his spells back at him, their bright red glow covering the lesser pink of Ron’s muttered, “ _Diffindo,_ ” following close behind.

The last wisps of thought were left where he had been standing.

With a corkscrew motion of his wand as he ducked towards the ground, he transfigured a wall of stone out of the floor to absorb the blast and cover his movement. The severing charm lopped off the top quarter of the wall. Harry caught it with a levitation spell and banished it towards where Ron had been kneeling. With another jab of his wand, he banished the rest of his protective wall in another volley of projectiles.

A flash of blinding light sent him diving reflexively to the side, blinking to clear his vision. He felt his legs lock together as a spell grazed his calf. He landed hard on his side but recovered with a quick, “ _Finite,_ ” and a shield to gather his bearings.

Two reductors and another severing charm impacted against the shimmering surface of his shield charm in quick succession, each one originating from somewhere on his left. He let the shield fall and thrust his wand forward, rattling off spells in quick succession, interspersing nonverbals into the mix.

He heard a curse of frustration and moved to capitalize on his enemy’s momentary distraction. A sweep of his wand coated the room ahead of him in water, and a final twist turned it to ice.

A grunt and a thud told him the location of his next barrage of spells, and he suffused the area with every incapacitating spell he knew. He didn’t want to kill if he could help it. He threw up a shield in case of retaliation and dropped to a knee, another volley of spells waiting on the tip of his tongue.

“Harry! That’s enough!”

Hermione’s yell wrenched him from the grip of his adrenaline and back into the Room of Requirement. He rose to his feet, his hand shaking as his mind slowly cleared. The room was deathly silent save for Hermione’s footsteps as she ran over to a smaller, collapsed version of the same wall of stone Harry had employed earlier in the duel.

“Is he okay?” Harry managed, his voice steadier than he’d expected.

“He's bound in ropes, stunned, and a little frozen,” Hermione answered from where she knelt next to Ron, her wand waving to dispel Harry’s final attacks. “He’ll probably be a little annoyed, but fine.”

After being ennervated by Hermione, Ron sat up groggily, rubbing at the side of his head with a wince.

“I’ve been hit by softer bludgers,” he complained, checking his hand as he pulled it away from his hair. “Dunno if the stones were all that necessary.”

Harry let out a weak laugh and moved over to help Ron to his feet. “This was _your_ idea,” he repeated, attempting a grin, though he suspected he failed miserably. “Sorry, mate. I got caught up in it.”

“Me too,” Ron replied quietly, patting Harry on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what everyone thought of me getting stomped flat.”

Ron’s words finally pierced the remaining haze of battle, and he turned to see the group of students whispering quietly to themselves, pointing to the destruction their duel had caused. Rubble littered the floor, large pieces of stone piled into the trenches that had been dug by their spells. Pillars that lined the perimeter had large chunks blown away, and one had collapsed completely.

“I think we went a little overboard,” Ron whispered, surveying the damage. “Good thinking on the ice though. Wasn’t expecting it at all.”

He approached the students, most of which stared at him with an awe that made him shift uncomfortably. He tried to shrug it off and smiled at them.

“Any questions?”

~~XxX~~

After the session had ended, Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey came up to where Harry and Ron stood, while Hermione had cited more studying and left for a last quick trip to the library before curfew.

“That was impressive, Potter,” Blaise said, his deep voice quiet. “I didn’t get to see your duel against Voldemort. I almost wish I had.”

“’Almost’ being the operative word,” Tracey said, sliding in next to Ron.

Blaise raised his eyebrows at the movement. “So, you finally nabbed Weasley, huh?” He turned to Ron. “Good luck.”

“I am a _catch_ ,” Tracey said, grabbing on to Ron’s hand. “You’re just a stick in the mud that doesn’t enjoy some fun.”

Daphne caught his attention with a quick wave of her hand and motioned for him to follow. He felt a quick jab of Tracey’s finger in his back prodding him forward. He dutifully followed Daphne from the room, walking in silence while she led him down a flight of stairs and over to a set of large windows that overlooked the black lake, the nearly full moon reflected on its surface.

A need to break the lingering silence grew inside him, while a sense of stubborn pride kept his mouth clamped firmly shut. He hadn’t been the rude one. First, anyway.

“Tracey had a bit of a talk with me.” Her usually aggressive tone was quiet as she stared down at the lake, some of the moonlight giving her hair a luminescent shine.

“She talked to me too.”

“Did she yell at you the whole time as well?” she asked, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a faint smile. “She was not happy with me.”

“I…er…caught her on their first date. I expect she was probably in a better mood.”

“I assume she told you to give me another chance?”

Harry nodded in response, worried that too many words might break the civility they suddenly found themselves in.

“I would appreciate it if you did. I’m aware of how I come across, I just have certain priorities. Not to mention you can be rather…intimidating.” She turned to him with a nervous smile that pushed straight through his reserves of irritation.

“ _I’m_ the intimidating one?” he asked with a chuckle.

She raised an eyebrow over a blank stare. “I’m not the one who defeated a Dark Lord. I just study like a madwoman in the library while I still can.” Another smile graced her features as she looked back out to the lake. “I made some progress today. In a different direction from what I need the book for, but it’s something at least. I’m still missing a few components to make the theory work, but it’s progress.”

“Can you tell me what it is you’re working on?” he asked, mentally preparing himself for the ire that was almost sure to follow. He was surprised to instead see her shoulders slump beneath her robes. She crossed her arms across her middle and frowned.

“I’m working to remove a curse on my sister.”

“A curse-” Harry sputtered, gaping at her. “Why on earth didn’t you say that in the first place?”

Daphne winced, drawing her arms tighter against herself. “I really didn’t want to have to tell Tracey she was right to tell you. She’ll be insufferable.” She sighed, and let her arms drop to her side as she fixed him with an unreadable stare. “Because it’s not my secret to tell. Would you want something like that to get out? Astoria’s already mad enough that I’ve been working on it for so long…” She trailed off, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind an ear. “I’ve tried so many things over the years, and every single one has failed. After all the potions and rituals I subjected her to, I can’t really blame her for hating me at this point. We still argue about it occasionally, but I’m used to it, and it no longer bothers me.

“That’s why I need the book,” she said, her voice gaining strength as she focused on him. “For years I operated under the assumption that it was a blood curse, until I was able to confirm that blood curses always impact the first-born. Never the second.”

“So that’s why you turned to soul magic?” he asked. He almost wished Hermione was with them. He felt out of his depth.

She nodded. “Curses that attach to the soul can produce similar wasting effects to what she’s experiencing. Beyond learning that they can still be hereditary much like blood curses, I’ve had trouble finding any more concrete information. That edited copy was my best lead until it vanished.”

Harry glanced out the window, his gaze sliding over the still surface of the lake and over to the forest. The forest that had seen the apparent end of their secret quest to defeat Voldemort. Trust had to be given in order to be received. He took a deep breath. Some of the truth was better than a lie.

“I have reasons for why I can’t get you that book beyond its title. I’m sorry for deceiving you.” He held up a hand as she whirled to face him, obstinate fire in her eyes. “You’re going to have to trust me here. I can’t just give you the book. What I _can_ do, is get the book, and tell you if there’s anything related to your project in there.”

“How would you know what is relevant and what isn’t?” she snapped, before visibly gathering herself. “I’m sorry. I don’t appreciate setbacks, especially with the stakes such as they are.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “So please understand, even with the stakes you’ve told me, this is the only offer I can make.”

“Even if I tell you she’s only got a few years left at absolute best? Her body has already begun to deteriorate. If she would stay in bed and take it easy, she would have much longer…but she refuses.” A shadow drew across her face, revealing for a moment the fear hiding beneath her anger. “Her lungs have already started to give out…if she’d just slow down…” Daphne shook herself and her brows drew back down into an angry frown. “Even then, you cannot do more?”

A sharp point of pain broke his heart as he shook his head. Some hero he was. Dumbledore would’ve been able to figure it out, but all they could do was make sure the world would never see the rise of another wizard as protected as Voldemort.

“Even then, this is all I can do. I’m sorry.”

He could see her jaw working as she ground her teeth, and the eventual acceptance as her posture slackened. “It’s better than nothing. Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“Not without spending a lot of time getting to know each other. Time it doesn’t sound like you have.”

She shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t. I thought a lot about what you said…about regret. It’s not as though I wouldn’t like to go see a Quidditch game, or visit Hogsmeade, but…” She shuddered and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. “If I ran out of time, and didn’t dedicate every moment I had to doing whatever it takes, how would I be able to live with myself afterward? If this is all you can give me, I’ll take it.”

“Get me the info, and I’ll get that book.”


	6. Chapter 6

The following day found Harry down at the Quidditch pitch with Tracey, watching the Gryffindor team warm up. Ginny had replaced him as Seeker, and the Nimbus she flew gracefully above the rest of the team would be hard to beat, especially with her flying it. Ron waved to them from his spot in front of the goalposts, causing Tracey to jump up, both arms waving exuberantly over her head. She dropped back into her seat and turned to him, a grin on her face. It quickly vanished as a gust of wind blew across the empty stands, pushing her hair across her face and into her mouth.

“Damn…stupid…” she grumbled, conjuring a small black tie with a wave of her wand. She pulled her hair back into a small ponytail with a quick tug. “I miss my super short hair.”

“Why not cut it again?” Harry asked, his own mop of unruly hair begging the same question as another breeze picked up.

To his surprise, color rose in her cheeks, even while she stared happily up at Ron, who soared across the pitch in maneuvering drills. “Lavender had pretty long hair, and so does Hermione, even if it’s all over the place. I thought that was his preference.”

He felt his eyebrows knock against his hairline. “Oh, he and Hermione never…”

“No? I’m surprised. You can usually tell when rumors have some substance, and when they don’t. I thought that one was true.”

“Not all rumors about who is dating are true,” he said dryly.

She turned to him with an odd expression over a half-opened mouth, which clicked shut as she noticed something over his shoulder.

“Well,” she said, standing and brushing her robes. “To that end, I’m going to move closer to the goalposts. I want to have a better angle if he falls. A bit harder to nail a cushioning charm from this far away.”

As she slid out from the benches, Harry spun around to find someone standing behind him. Her shoulder-length blond hair blew sideways in the wind across a face that was nearly the spitting image of a thinner, younger Daphne. As he looked closer, he amended his thought to ‘gaunt’. Tired eyes stared down at him with the same cool purpose of her older sister, with her mouth drawn into a thin line to rival the Headmistress.

“I’m Astoria Greengrass,” she said, a staggeringly firm voice issuing from such a frail frame. “May I sit?”

Harry nodded, gesturing to the empty bench next to him. She stepped over the seat to his row and sat down, her back ramrod straight with her hands placed primly in her lap.

“Daphne had the decency to let me know she told you of my affliction,” she said, the curt jump away from pleasantries clearly a familial trait. “Will you be blabbing it around the school?”

Harry felt himself recoil in surprise. “Of course not. You don’t win a war by failing to keep secrets.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, her stiff posture relaxing a bit. “Now that you have been brought into this nonsense, I have a favor to ask of you.”

A cheer went up from the team over by where Ron covered the goals, but he paid them no mind. “What is it? Favors for Greengrasses seem to be a bit more involved than initially advertised.”

The scathing glance she produced with a simple tilt of her head reminded Harry uncomfortably of Narcissa, who had torn him apart with words once he’d finally managed to snap her wand. And after he’d saved her life no less. One of the very few victories they’d had that day.

Her threatening countenance shattered against a ragged cough, and her shoulders slumped. “My favor is simple, and will cover hers.”

“I’m listening.”

She turned blue eyes on him, and he noticed they weren’t the sharp steely blue to match Daphne’s, but almost gray, to match a cloudy sky. “I want you to convince her to stop.”

He almost choked. “Why?”

“Why? Because I’ve been at Hogwarts for five years, and I’ve had to watch her work on her ‘project’ day in and day out. Because I’ve been subjected to test after test, ritual after ritual, and potion after horrible potion because she cannot let go. She’s thrown her life away ever since she got her wand.”

“That’s-”

“The first magic she ever practiced was healing magic,” Astoria continued, barreling over his words. “She tried and tried, but was rubbish at it. They would only backfire on her, and she’d hurt herself.”

“That’s…nice…in a weird way,” he tried, earning him a wan smile in return.

“At first it was. Then it was cruel. Now it’s finally tiresome. I don’t have a lot of time left. If I stuck to my bed and didn’t come to school or practice magic, I could probably live for quite a bit longer. But that’s just being dead before your heart finally stops.”

Harry sat in silence, turning back to face the pitch where the team was running a partial skirmish. A flash of gold by Katie’s foot caught his eye, but Ginny continued to circle on high, oblivious. For the first time since falling to earth with cursed shards of broomstick stabbing deep into his thighs, he wished he was up there instead, with only the wind in his ears.

“I can only promise to talk to her about it. I don’t think she values my opinion that much,” he said as he saw Ginny finally dive for the Snitch.

“Who knows _what_ she thinks,” Astoria grumbled, her eyes also tracing the manic red blur that was Ginny. “It’s going to be a tough year for Slytherin. They lost a lot of the team to the war. They’re all rather green, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Harry let out a quick bark of laughter that burst forth despite a complete lack of mirth. He’d been directly responsible for two of them.

“They’re a good team, even without me. I’d say the whole school is going to have it tough.”

“The former star player of said team is basically required to say that. Ravenclaw is pretty good this year, and their seeker is top-notch. Word is she’s been getting tips from her boyfriend.”

Harry nodded, some warmth finally returning to his chest. “Cedric was incredible, and Cho was already pretty good. You might be right.”

“I’m right about a lot of things,” she answered quickly, before small disgusted wince crossed her face. “That was a terrible tie-in. Forget that. Talk to Daphne, please. Her single-mindedness makes it hard to…well…makes everything harder.”

He turned to her in surprise. “She talked as though you hate her. I don’t really see it.”

She shrugged, the quick motion producing another prolonged coughing fit. “I do. Sometimes. Most often when I’m face-to-face with that idiocy. I understand why she does it, I’m just tired of it is all.”

“I’ll talk to her at least. I promise.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she said, rising from her seat. She smiled down at his wide-eyed stare. “The entirety of Slytherin isn’t limited to last names. I’d prefer it if you call me Astoria as well, though I encourage you to continue to call Daphne ‘Greengrass.’ It drives her mad.”

“She calls me ‘Potter,’” he protested.

“And she’s about as socially adept as a ghost. A side effect of spending your whole damn life in a corner of the library.”

“Got it.”

With a simple nod, Astoria left him alone in the stands. His eyes darted back and forth across the pitch, the golden Snitch never leaving his sight, though his thoughts were much further away. This was rapidly becoming yet another year full of nonsense at Hogwarts.

~~XxX~~

Ron joined Harry and Hermione in the common room much later that evening, his face still red from exertion. Professor Martín’s lesson plans were strewn across a table between them while Hermione tried desperately to bring some semblance of order to the mess.

“I saw you in the stands, mate,” Ron said as he dropped into a nearby chair with a grunt. “Thanks for comin’ to the first practice. What’d you think?”

“What I saw was good,” he said, wincing at the brief flash of disappointment across his friend’s features. “I had to talk to someone.”

“I saw that, I just couldn’t see who. Did you get Greengrass out to watch a Quidditch practice? I thought I saw blond hair.”

“It could’ve been Luna,” Hermione interjected as she tapped a small stack of parchment on the table to straighten them.

“Even _if_ Luna and Neville weren’t fully attached at the hip, I don’t think I’ve seen her at the pitch without that lion head on. Practice or not,” Ron said with a laugh.

“It was _a_ Greengrass. Astoria, Daphne’s sister. She asked me for a favor too.”

“What was it?” Hermione asked, setting her tidy stack down on the table.

“I…can’t tell you. I was told something in confidence that makes me believe they aren’t looking for that book for the reasons we were afraid of.”

“They’d better not be,” she said with a huff. “If they are, you’ll be the one taking down Dark Lady Greengrass on your own.”

“That’s fair. Listen, I’m going to get the book.” He tried not to flinch at the sudden explosion of argument from both Hermione and Ron. He dropped his wand from his holster and cast their usual privacy charms and wards around their table. “ _Listen_!” he snapped.

He could hear the click of their teeth as they slammed their jaws shut.

“I’m not an idiot, okay. I want to help them, but I’m not about to risk the secret because of some stupid mistake. I’m getting the book, then allowing her to ask me questions while I check it for relevant information. Afterward, I destroy it. Everybody gets what they want.”

“But you _know_ that what she’s looking for isn’t in that book. Why do you think there was only that small note in the one they had in the library?”

“We don’t, actually,” he said, dredging up a voice of certainty and command he’d hoped to leave behind. “Someone came to me for help, and if I choose not to just because it’s challenging, then it’s my fault if something bad happens. No matter what, I won’t risk the secret, and I’ve told her as much.”

“We trust you,” Ron said, glancing over to Hermione who nodded. “We just…don’t want all that we went through to have been for nothing.”

“It won’t be,” he promised, feeling the mantle of obligation begin to settle into its well-worn grooves on his spirit. Maybe he was no Dumbledore, but he’d make sure he continued to earn that Order of Merlin he’d received what already felt like a lifetime ago.

~~XxX~~

Harry found Daphne in the library Monday evening amidst her usual mess of research. Her hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck, long loose strands still hanging over her shoulder. She seemed more alert than she had during his previous visits, with the dark circles gone, and her expression far more focused.

She noticed him and turned, forcing him to do his best to appear as though he hadn’t been staring.

“Took you long enough,” she said, setting her quill atop the open book in front of her and turning sideways in her chair. She crossed her legs and folded her arms beneath her chest. “So. Are you going to do as my sister asked?”

“I promised I would.”

“I’m not going to stop, and you can’t force me,” she said, her tone quickly reminiscent of frozen steel.

“I just said I’d talk to you about it, not force you,” he said, pulling a chair from a nearby alcove. He dropped down into it and tried to match her glare for glare. “I didn’t think you would, but I figured I could try.”

“To what end?” she asked, her tone no less frigid than before. “Why would you have me stop. What does it matter to you?”

“It matters to Astoria. I should think her opinion counts for something in this.”

“It might have, but she’s given up,” she spat. “It’s up to me to keep trying.” Her eyes searched his, and he thought he saw some of the tension leave her face. “I don’t think you’d try to force me to quit. Besides being a waste of time, I don’t think that’s how you work.”

“You don’t really know me,” he said, crossing his arms. “How would you know ‘how I work?’”

“And you know me?” she retorted. “You asked if I’d look back with regret, and I considered your words. I might. But I’d also know for certain that I would regret it if she died and I didn’t try as hard as I could. That’s why I can’t do all these things that you and she find important. Quidditch, Hogsmeade, school clubs, dating, friends, none of it. It’s why I couldn’t attend the DA meetings, or go to the Yule Ball. Putting aside the fact that most of those things don’t even interest me, how could I? When something so important needs doing, how could I put my frivolous desires before her life like that? I haven’t wasted my time if I’m working towards such a goal. So go on, make your case.”

He sat quietly as he tried to organize his turbulent thoughts. He could see the light of challenge in her eyes and could feel it in the expectant tension in the air. A single eyebrow raised in partial, premature triumph as the silence dragged on.

“I don’t have a case to make,” he said finally, almost smiling at the sudden shift in her expression. It was clearly not what she’d been expecting. “It’s your life just the same as it is hers. She’s choosing to live hers in a certain way despite her health. You’re choosing to live yours in service to a cause. I understand that sacrifice more than most, I think, and in a more thorough way than you might expect.”

“Sacrifice?” 

Her chair creaked beneath her as she leaned forward, her blue eyes probing his with none of the anger he was used to seeing. She leaned back and focused on a point somewhere above his head, before turning to her book and writing on the open page. She turned back to him and let out a slow sigh.

“Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?” she asked. She slowly wrung her hands in her lap. “But it’s worth it. If I succeed, then I’ll be able to enjoy those things. If I don’t…then I’ve done everything within my power.”

“If that does happen, do you think that will help you?”

“I think that the alternative would wound me irreparably,” she answered, a stricken look settling across her features. “Have I satisfied your promise to her? I am not comfortable sharing myself in this way, and you still agreed to help me, remember?”

He nodded. “I’ll send the letter tonight.”


	7. Chapter 7

Harry’s week passed slowly while he waited for the reply from Daphne’s mysterious bookseller. She had been invaluable in writing the rather formal request, as well as in providing ways he could prove who he was without showing up in person. He hadn’t known that families had magical wax seals, nor that he had two. One for Potter, and one for Black. At Daphne’s urging, he opted to use the Potter crest to seal the letter. His name certainly carried less stigma than House Black’s.

He had to push the thoughts of impatience from his mind as Friday drew nearer. He'd realized early on he had to devise a more structured lesson plan than ‘watch us duel,' and had been somewhat surprised to find himself alone in the effort. Hermione was off studying, and Ron was busy with the extra practices for their first game that Saturday while spending the rest of his free time with Tracey. The annoyance he’d felt at addressing the lesson plans faded as he dug into them, the monotonous structure becoming somewhat cathartic after the unpredictability that had been his first month back at Hogwarts.

It was with relative confidence that he stood in front of the members of the study group, his hastily jotted down lesson plan clutched in one hand. He knew Hermione would have cautioned to take more thorough notes than the quick shorthand he’d used, but he knew the handful of words would jog his memory once he saw them. He made a mental note to thank Ron when his friend finished with Quidditch practice. Their duel the week before still held the students’ attention, and they waited quietly for him to start.

In short order, his hubris became his downfall as he stared down at the parchment in his hand. As though ‘duck stun/down stun’ meant _anything._ Even if disorganized, Professor Martín's notes had at least been thorough. He stuffed the useless parchment in his robes and addressed the assembled students.

“Today we’ll be focusing on stunners.” A groan arose and he held his hands up to placate the complaints. “It’s one of the simplest spells to learn non-verbally, and others will start to come easier once you understand how it works.”

“You can cast non-verbals?” Blaise asked, his voice booming through the large chamber. No wonder he often spoke so quietly.

“I can do a few, yes,” he said. He dropped his wand into his hand, the leading question already clearly pointing to a demonstration.

“Show us!” Susan Bones called out.

“You’ll need to start taking my word for these things eventually,” he grumbled. He turned, lifted his wand to where a Death Eater mannequin materialized and focused inward.

His wand blurred into motion, a quick volley of spells spewing forth, impacting the mannequin. It bucked and spun as it each bit of magic struck it, with the final spell slicing it cleanly in half.

He turned back to the group, pulling a page from Professor Martín’s book. “Who can tell me what spells I used?”

Whispers arose from the group as they deliberated, with Tracey eventually raising her hand into the air.

“Daphne and I saw a stunner, a disarm, a body-bind, and of course the cutting charm at the end.”

Harry nodded with a smile. “Good eye. I can also cast a shield, the reductor, and the blasting charm. I want you to split off into pairs, and attempt to non-verbally stun each other. I’ll have the room provide mats so you won’t hurt yourself when you fall.”

“Can’t we just try to cast the spell against a wall or something?” Susan asked, glancing over to her friend next to her.

“That’s a good question,” he said, scanning the crowd. “You could, and you’d get it eventually, but the times you’ll need to non-verbally cast a stunner will be in the middle of a duel. Learning to cast it while someone else might be about to stun you is about as close to that environment as we're going to get right now.”

He directed them into pairs, splitting up Tracey and Daphne as they stepped to the side together.

“You’ll take it easy on a friend, and they’ll do the same in return. Better someone you don’t know to get that sense of tension we’re looking for,” he explained to a silent Daphne as he led her over to where Susan stood with her friend. He received barely a glance in response as he stepped back allowing them space to get started.

He’d spotted her the moment she’d stepped through the door just moments before the lesson was about to start, and had nearly run over to her to ask why she changed her mind about coming. A small shake of her head had forestalled his first step, and he’d begun the class.

She spared him the further agony of imagining the ‘why’ of her actions after he’d dismissed the class. He called to the retreating students, reminding them to wear their casual clothes for the next meeting instead of robes for dueling practice. She and Tracey lagged behind, both stepping off to the side while the rest of the group filed from the room. Tracey didn’t stay for long, saying a quick hello and an even quicker goodbye as she left to go catch the end of Ron’s Quidditch practice. The door shut behind her with a loud solid thud, leaving him and Daphne alone in the large chamber.

“Any news on the book?” she asked into the sudden silence. 

“Not yet,” he said, “but I hope it comes soon. I hate needing to go through all my mail.”

She smiled, a sudden mischievous glint in her eye. “Is all the fan mail difficult to deal with?”

“It’s not _all_ fan mail. A fair amount of the letters are from people challenging me to a duel. It’s crazy.”

“Quite,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting a little higher. “I’m sorry for causing you such tragedy.”

“What brings you to the study session?” he asked, taking care to keep his voice as light as possible.

She shrugged, pulling the tie from her hair and letting it fall loose across her back. “I wanted to ask after the book for one. And I guess you can consider this a bit of an olive branch. We’ve butted heads a lot, but you’ve spent a lot of time trying to help me too.”

“But doesn’t being here interfere with your ‘big plan?’”

“My-” her eyes narrowed for a moment before she nodded. “Ah. I see. Tracey told you of the whole ‘Slytherin group’ theory she has. I assume she told you she’s a follower?”

He nodded.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s a manipulator, though not usually in a bad way. She’d probably just call herself a ‘people-person.’ We’ve been friends since we were very little, so I’m able to see through her plans.”

“What plans has she got?” he asked, struggling against the simmering anger he felt building. He’d been manipulated quite enough for one lifetime.

She looked up at him and smiled reassuringly. “Nothing sinister, don’t worry. I would say that our running into each other at the awards ceremony was her plan all along. For one, so you and I would cross paths, and I’d have another opportunity should I need one. And for two, she’s been interested in Weasley for a long time.”

Harry laughed, his tension fading. “I’m sure Ron would be thrilled to know that. When things ended with Lavender, he was pretty torn up. But it’s probably a good thing she waited as long as she did.”

“Yes, I expect a relationship would be hard-pressed to survive during a year that you go missing.” An eyebrow raised above an inquisitive stare, her eyes asking questions she knew better than to voice.

“Yeah.”

“I also came to tell you I’ll be away from the castle this weekend. That other branch of my research I mentioned has born significant fruit, and I’ve bribed Astoria to give me a chance. I wanted to extend you the courtesy of not looking for me should you receive an answer from the bookseller.”

“Oh, thanks…wait, you were able to get permission to leave?" He paused. "Also, I’m surprised your sister agreed. From the little bit I talked to her, it didn’t seem like there’d be much you could offer that’d make her happy about it.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s a wonder someone who saved our entire way of life knows so little about the finer details. We’re of age, Potter.” Her teasing smile dropped along with her gaze. “As for Astoria, I had to promise this would be the last attempt.”

“You’re going to stop?” He turned to face her in surprise. “So then you don’t need the book.”

“Of course I’m not,” she snapped. “Not until I’ve succeeded. If this goes wrong, then I’ll just have to come up with ways to do things that she doesn’t know about.”

“That seems-”

“I don’t care how it seems. Even if I have to kidnap her, I’d rather she hate me and be alive than dead. She didn’t make me swear an unbreakable oath, so I’ll keep going for as long as I can.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. It was nice when they could chat normally. If only he didn’t always manage to turn it into some sort of argument. “I suppose it’s not really my business.”

“No,” she said. Her tone warmed significantly. “It’s not.” She turned and smiled up at him, though the edges were tinged with melancholy. “You know, you’re not so bad to talk to sometimes. When you’re not being a pain in my backside.”

“When I’m not-?!”

“That said, I do have a few last-minute preparations to make before we leave, so I must go.” She hesitated for a moment, then turned for the door. He found his voice again as her hand grabbed the doorknob.

“Good luck!” he called, wincing when she jumped in surprise.

Instead of the pointed remark he expected, she pushed some loose hair behind an ear and smiled. “Thank you.”

~~XxX~~

A piercing whistle sounded from Madam Hooch, and the two teams kicked off the pitch and into the sky. The first game of the season had begun. The first Gryffindor game Harry had ever watched from the sidelines. Tracey sat to his right, or had been sitting there anyway. She stood with her hands cupped over her mouth, shouting encouragement to Ron. The green accents of her tie stood out in the sea of Gryffindor red and gold, but she’d made it perfectly clear to anyone who asked who she was rooting for. Neville sat on the other side of Harry, with Luna resting comfortably on his lap. True to form, she wore her handmade Gryffindor lion-head, which tickled Harry’s face every time the wind blew through its yarn mane.

A bellowing cheer arose from the stands, pulling Harry to his feet with a fist raised to the sky in triumph. Ron did a loop of victory around the hoops, the Quaffle from his first saved goal clutched tightly in his hand. He and Tracey waved up to him as he grinned down at them before the flash of a nearby Bludger pulled his attention back to the game. Harry squinted up at the noonday sun, barely able to pick out the shadow that was Ginny circling up high. He smiled, the memory of the very same move earning him another satisfying victory in their fifth year.

The announcer called out each play and pass as the Quaffle was driven back and forth across the field. They had an impressive level of technical knowledge, and the speed at which they were able to narrate the match was incredible. But he couldn’t help but feel it lacked…personality.

Ginny flashed by the stands, one arm outstretched as she chased after a golden blur in front of her. The snitch darted left then whizzed by her head in the opposite direction, forcing her into a quick spin to chase it. Or rather, that’s what he would have done. Instead, she twisted her torso, holding onto the broom with her knees. Her offhand whirled around and snagged the Snitch by one of its small white wings.

She stared at the tiny struggling ball for a moment, before hefting it above her head to a deafening roar of approval. Ron zoomed over from his goalposts, almost smashing into her as he excitedly grabbed onto her wrist, his longer limbs almost pulling her from her broom as he lifted the Snitch even higher.

After they’d filed from the stands, Harry waited outside the locker room doors with Tracey, who was nearly vibrating with excited energy.

“A real Quidditch match is so _exciting_ ,” she burst out, a wild grin on her face. “Half of the Slytherin team had no business on a broom, and that didn’t exactly make for interesting games.”

“I can only remember the one game against them,” Harry said, a smile of his own creeping across his face. It _had_ been rather nice to drop Malfoy into the dirt with that Wronski Feint.

The door to the locker rooms flew open with a crash, the team spilling out in a mess of excitement and congratulations. Katie approached Harry first. Her face was still red with exertion, and she wiped some sweat from the end of her nose.

“You’re one for one,” she said, poking him on the chest. “I checked to make sure you were there. I expect you to see us all the way to the cup.”

Harry laughed. “You don’t need me for that.” He nodded over to where Ginny and Ron were talking, both their arms waving as they reenacted their respective plays. She froze when she caught his glance, but instead of the usual quick turn away, she gave him a nod and a small wave, before flinging an arm playfully around Ron’s neck.

Katie followed Harry’s gaze and nodded. “She’s got big shoes to fill, but she seems to be up for it so far. We were lucky the snitch showed early. Hufflepuff has endurance for days, and that’s something we lack right now.”

Ron strode up, waving a quick goodbye to Ginny. He wrapped his arms around Tracey, who stood on tiptoes for a quick kiss.

“Thanks for coming, mate,” Ron said once he’d managed to disentangle himself. A small frown peeked through his post-game excitement. “No Hermione?”

“She said she’s still got studying to do. I tried to convince her that NEWTs were ages away, but she’s really fixated for some reason. Sorry that I couldn’t get her to come,” Harry finished with a shrug. “I think she’s the only one who doesn’t know she’s going to pass those tests with flying colors.”

“Speaking of flying colors,” Tracey said, jabbing Ron gently in the side with a finger. “Next time lend me your tie or something so I can wear some red and gold. I stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“I could probably get you your own lions-head instead. Luna’s awfully proud of that thing. I bet she’d be happy to make you one.” Another much harder prod made him grunt out the last word.

“I don’t like you _that_ much, Weasley.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Katie asked. “I know I saw Luna’s outfit as we flew by, and I can only assume the person she was sitting on was Neville.”

“They left just after the game ended,” Harry said, gesturing for the small group to follow him inside instead of standing around in the sun. “I guess Saturdays are ‘date days,’ but they still wanted to support the team. They asked me to pass on their congratulations though.”

“Aw,” Katie said, a small smile lifting the corners of her eyes. “That’s sweet.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ron piped up, wrapping an arm around Tracey’s shoulder. “You want to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

Her smile dropped for a moment before she reaffixed it firmly in place. “I’ll probably be busy tomorrow, though I don’t know yet for sure.” Harry didn’t miss the quick sidelong glance his direction. “So take me out today instead.”

“Let me clean up and we’ll get going,” Ron said, almost sprinting for the entrance to the castle up ahead. “Meet you by the entrance in twenty?”

“Make it thirty so you don’t fall while running down some stairs!” she called after him, earning a small wave of acknowledgment in return.

“I’d better go clean up some too,” she said, pulling at the neck of her uniform. “Wearing this when it’s still so warm was a mistake. I think I’ve got something stashed away that’ll really knock his socks off.”

She bid Harry and Katie goodbye, and followed Ron up to the castle, though at a much more reasonable pace.

“I’m really glad you came,” Katie said, glancing over at him. “Being captain is tough. Seeing you out there somehow made it a bit easier. Like a bit of the old guard, you know?”

“Be glad you don’t have to captain the twins,” Harry said. “Can you imagine?”

“Ugh.” A shudder ran up her back and she rubbed at her arms. “No wonder Wood was such a hard-ass.” She paused for a moment, her hands held together in front of her. “How’s George doing?”

“Working at the shop, last I’d heard,” Harry said, feeling the temperature drop as they stepped into the shadow of the castle.

“I should write him instead of asking you,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring the mood down from our first incredible win.”

Harry returned her attempted smile with one of his own, and they parted, leaving Harry to himself in a repeat of something that seemed to happen more and more often of late. He stepped through the entrance to the castle and made a beeline for the library. He didn’t have to be alone if he didn’t want to be, and Hermione needed a proper talking-to for missing their friend’s first game for studying she didn’t even need.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry took a bite of toast, doing his absolute best not to look even half as smug as he felt. It wasn’t often he’d gotten to correct Hermione so thoroughly, and it was even rarer he had such a good excuse. Hermione had spent the better part of breakfast the following morning apologizing profusely to Ron for her single-mindedness, even though he’d forgiven her immediately.

“I know it’s not that big a deal, but Quidditch is important to you, and I missed your first game! And for what? Because I’ve already turned studying for NEWTs into some big project. I shouldn’t have let you down like that-”

“ _Hermione!_ ” Ron said, finally cutting through her apologetic babble. He lowered his voice, his expression falling into a serious drawn set that Harry hadn’t seen for months. He sobered as his sense of superiority fled before Ron’s demeanor. “I get it. Okay? Mistakes happen, and letting us down isn’t a matter of life and death anymore. It’s just Quidditch.”

Hermione nodded her head, her hair shielding her face as she stared down at her hands. “I know it’s not,” she said, glancing over at Harry through the bushy curtains of hair. “It’s still hard to _feel_ like it isn’t.”

Harry patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, and she gave him a watery smile. They were unable to delve further into the somber discussion by the timely arrival of the post, which deposited the usual stack of mail in front of Harry. He untied the string holding the letters together and began to sort through them.

“You’re not going to vanish them like usual?” Hermione asked, watching as he flipped through the letters.

“I’m waiting on one-” he began, but stopped as another owl dropped a single letter in front of him, a familiar script scrawled across the front. “Damn.”

“Bad news?” Ron asked, peering over at him.

“You could say that.” Harry dumped his stack of letters to the side and lifted the perfect white envelope. On the front, written in efficient blocky strokes sat the letters ‘H.P.’ “It’s Kingsley again. He’s owled me at least once a week since we got here asking me to join up, twice if the Death Eaters attack.”

“I say toss it,” Ron said. “You told ‘em you’d join up after school. Besides, you’ve already cleaned up a mess that should’ve been theirs in the first place.”

“He’s right, Harry. Besides, Cedric is working with them to help reduce the time it takes to get someone on the scene. The entire Auror force and what’s left of the Order are all working on it. Would one more person really make a difference?”

“Kingsley seems to think so,” Harry said, sliding a finger beneath the seal and popping it open.

_Harry!_

_I’m sure my letters grow tiresome, but I appreciate the time I’m sure you take to hear me out. I’ve spoken with Elizabeth Corduroy, our new head of the DMLE, and she’s agreed to personally oversee your progress in the program. Should you prove proficient enough (which we both know you will), she’ll begin to teach you the ropes of leading the department! She’ll be there for quite a while, so you won’t have to worry about taking over any time soon, but she’s thrilled to have you as a successor. Needless to say, we would want to get started as soon as possible!_

_Hear from you soon!_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister for Magic_

Harry passed the letter over to Hermione, who wrinkled her nose as she read. “Ugh. He sounds more and more like Fudge every day.”

“Comes with the territory I reckon,” Ron said, skimming the letter after Hermione handed it over. “He’s probably got to talk to people like that all day every day.”

“I wonder how long I’ll be able to snub the Minister for?” Harry wondered, returning to sorting his other mail. “I can’t imagine he’s thrilled when he never hears from me.”

“They’ve already gotten enough of your time,” Hermione said with a fierce nod. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for a little bit for yourself before going back. I know you had trouble with that at first.”

“It’s like I said; if I can help, but don’t, then aren’t some of the bad things that happen my fault? At least I’m doing some good while I’m here with the study group and helping Daphne out.” He tossed the papers down and vanished them with a flick of his wand. How long could it possibly take for one person to reply about buying a book?

“Harry-”

“Sorry guys,” he said, rising from his seat. “I’m going to go clear my head. Plus, I’ve exhausted my supply of pumpkin pasties. So I’ve got an errand to run. I’ll see you later.”

He strode from the hall, doing his best not to feel guilty for walking away from his friends like that. He knew they meant well, but with every attack the Prophet printed, and the details he knew they were leaving out, the selfish feeling inside grew more and more unbearable. Working on his little lessons and helping a pretty girl save her sister was good, but he could save a lot more if he’d finish what he started.

His dour thoughts carried him all the way to Honeydukes, where even the pleasant aromas failed to lift his mood. He grabbed a half dozen of the pasties and a chocolate frog for good measure. He dropped exact change on the counter and left before Ambrosius could insist his money was no good there. Again.

He stuffed the pasties into a pocket of his robes and tore open the chocolate frog. The frog took a mighty leap as soon as it was exposed, but he snatched it in midair and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he turned over the card to find his own portrait smiling awkwardly up at him. He frowned, and the portrait shrugged before stepping out of view. He vanished the card irritably. 

The crowded paths were no balm to his mood. Chatting people jostled his shoulders as they passed, and he gritted his teeth, searching for an exit from the main thoroughfare. His salvation was found near the end of the path where people would apparate into the village. With most of the students being underage, the area was typically empty save for the occasional resident returning home after a weekend away. Before he could enjoy the solitude, a crack of apparition sounded nearby and the air disgorged two familiar women.

Astoria yanked her arm free of Daphne’s grip, the fair skin of her face tinted red with fury. She jammed a finger into Daphne’s shoulder, propelling her back a step from the force of it.

“I’m sick of this, Daphne!” She jabbed her again for emphasis. “You _lied to me_ ! But no. You always know best, and to hell with everyone else!” She whirled around to leave, and her thunderous gaze caught Harry. It froze him to the spot for its unabashed fury. “Thanks for all your _help_ , Potter.”

Without further word or explanation, Astoria stormed away, her chest heaving, and her hands clenched into fists.

“It…didn’t go well?” he asked once she was out of sight.

She shook her head. “It’s been an incredibly taxing weekend, for obvious reasons. Forgive me, but I’m going to get some rest.” She stopped mid-step and turned to him, a genuine smile on her face. “I know you didn’t try to force me to stop like she wanted you to, so allow me to properly thank you for your help.”

Harry could only nod, noting with surprise that the weekend had indeed taken its toll on her. Dark circles sat heavily beneath her eyes, her long hair was tangled and wild, a far cry from its normal tamed silky length. She said a quick goodbye and left, leaving him alone to his thoughts. He felt the gnaw of angry doubt begin to tear at his insides. He was avoiding being an Auror to save someone who didn’t want to be saved, and to teach lessons they could learn themselves if they really tried hard enough? He shook his head and continued his walk around the grounds, not to return to the castle until late in the evening.

~~XxX~~

Tracey tracked him down the next day, her normal peppy energy replaced by a no-nonsense demeanor that seemed to fit Daphne far better than it did her. She pulled him aside after lunch, smiling apologetically over at Ron who looked playfully put-out.

“Daph isn’t feeling very well. She says whatever they worked on really took it out of her, and apparating all the way from France didn’t help.”

“They live in France?”

“Of course not. Her father doesn’t approve of her…hobby, so she took Astoria to one of their getaway homes.”

“How do you feel about her hobby?” he asked, earning him a look of naked surprise.

“She’s my best friend. I want what’s best for her. It’s hard to watch her spend her life doing this but…” she trailed off, rubbing her thumb quickly across the corner of her eye. “But then I remember she’s actually spending the rest of Astoria’s life doing this, and that makes it a little easier. Plus, someone needs to pick up the pieces when…if…” She took in a deep breath and brought back a modicum of the smile he was used to seeing from her. “Look, don’t tell her I said any of that. She might not be feeling well, but she could still probably kick my ass if she got it in her head I deserved it.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, the whole reason I needed to talk to you was to pass a message. She said to have you tell me if you get an answer to your letter. Whatever that means. I love her to death, but for the life of me I’ll never understand why she still needs to keep so many secrets from me.”

“Maybe it’s a book of horrible curses, and she didn’t want you to know,” he said in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

“Right, and you would get her a book full of horrible curses?”

“Depends on how horrible.”

“That’s fair. Let me know if you hear about whatever it is you two are scheming about. She’s still studying away, even while stuck in bed, so I have no doubt she’ll want to hear as soon as you know anything.”

Harry nodded and returned to where Ron stood with Hermione while Tracey raised herself up to give Ron a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“You know,” Hermione said, glancing over at Harry. “The more I see and hear about this deal you’ve got with Daphne, the shadier it seems.”

He could only shrug, the clandestine meetings and vague messengers doing little to help him form any sort of counter-argument.

“Well, whatever it is, keep your eyes open,” she said, frowning. “I trust you to make the right decisions, but it never hurts to be careful.”

“I’m sorry I can’t clue you guys in on what’s going on,” he said in reply, earning him two identical wide-eyed stares. “It feels weird not tackling a problem together, you know?”

Ron nodded, glancing over to the spot Tracey had vacated a few moments before. “I know she and I haven’t been together very long, but I can tell the whole thing with Greengrass eats her up a bit. Probably more than she lets on if I had to guess. It seems important, so you should do what you have to do. We’ll be here if you need help though.”

Hermione nodded vehement agreement.

“I know. Thanks.”

~~XxX~~

He almost asked for their promised help later that week after he checked the marauder's map for the hundredth time, to find Daphne still resting in the dungeons. Between his curiosity to find out what her cure attempt had entailed, and the somewhat boring process of putting down into words the basic movements for practical duels, he found Friday’s lesson quickly biting at his heels with little to show for his time spent. His salvation came in the form of Neville, who slid into the common room Thursday evening just before curfew, red-faced and breathing hard.

“Ginny told me she’d have my hide if she caught me out after curfew again,” he said in answer to Harry’s questioning glance. Neville crossed the room and looked down at Harry’s mess of lesson plans. “Is this that supplementary class you’re working on?”

Harry nodded, pushing a chair back with his foot in invitation. Neville dropped down into it with a grunt. “It is. Though I’m not sure ‘class’ is the right word. It’s just a study group really. I’m a little surprised not to see you there though. The D.A. became as much yours as it was mine last year.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Neville said. “But…after last year, Luna and I decided we’d spend as much time as possible together. You never know how much time you’ve got left with someone, and it’s pretty much a miracle we both made it through the battle relatively unscathed. I’m taking the NEWTs, but the only one I really care about is Herbology. So long as I pass with an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ Professor Sprout she’ll let me be a student-teacher next year.”

“That’s great!” Harry replied. He grinned at his friend. “You deserve it.”

“So do you,” Neville said, leaning forward before Harry could get a word in edgewise. “You do look like you need some help though. Defense isn’t my best subject, but another set of eyes might help.”

“You might be uniquely qualified to help me. I’ve got to teach them dueling for the NEWT. We’ve been working on some non-verbal stuff, but I’m drawing a blank on how to break down a real-life duel for them. Did you guys cover any of that last year in the D.A.?”

Neville sat back in his chair and stared off thoughtfully. “We did. Sort of, anyway. Close to the end there we just dueled each other so we’d be in practice. No rules beyond that we tried not to hurt each other too badly. It got pretty chaotic, but it seemed to help.”

“That’s…not a bad idea,” Harry said, staring down at the beginning of a transfiguration in combat breakdown he’d begun to write. “Practical tends to be superior to theoretical, at least in my experience.”

“You see,” Neville said with a grin as he stood. “I helped _and_ you don’t have to do a whole bunch of writing. You owe me one.”

“I’ll buy you a new greenhouse when you finally take over for Professor Sprout,” Harry said, returning the grin. “I’ll even let you name it.”

“Do that and I swear I’ll name it the ‘Honorary Boy-Who-Lived Greenhouse.’ Hogwarts isn’t hurting for money, even after the restoration. Donate to St. Mungo’s or something if you really want to.”

Harry nodded, filing the thought away for later. Helping St. Mungo’s would be an excellent use of the massive Black fortune that he’d so far been unable to point in any meaningful direction. He collected his lesson plans and followed Neville up to the dorms, his eyes already tired from all the reading he’d had to do. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Neville’s suggestion. If he saw how people dueled, he’d be able to make corrections. With the added benefit of little to no paperwork beforehand.

~~XxX~~

Neville’s idea had been a good one, though Harry thought he could’ve done without the understatement. ‘Chaotic’ didn’t quite begin to accurately describe the mess of spells and shouts flying through the room. For the first dueling lesson, he’d allowed them to pair off with friends for a more comfortable duel to start. He wasn’t sure he’d managed to suppress the pleased smile when he’d seen Daphne file in behind Tracey, her face a little pale, but her eyes still bright with interest. Her duel with Tracey was slow and methodical, but her form was good. It’d be easy to correct in the future…if she kept coming.

His body moved before he’d registered the spell whizzing past his head. He ducked and dropped his wand into his hand, producing a shield charm in the same fluid movement. He rose slowly to his feet and called for a stop to the duels.

“I liked what I saw,” he said as the exhausted students huddled around him. He saw Susan sit slowly down on the ground and wipe the sweat from her forehead, while Daphne leaned gently against Tracey. “You were all giving it everything you had, and that’s great. I’ll work on ways we can have a setup where we don’t have to worry about stray spells for next week. Try to think of some good combos this week, and we’ll try them out next time.”

Daphne lagged behind again, waving to Tracey as she filed out with the rest of the slow, tired group. He tried to give her a quick once-over without being too obvious, though the flat stare he earned in response made it clear he had failed.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” he said by way of explanation. “I was surprised to see you here today.”

“I was getting tired of looking at the stone walls of the dungeons.” She glanced around to the similar walls surrounding them. “I’m so glad I came,” she added dryly.

Neville’s quick comment slid into his mind without so much as a ‘please’, and pushed words from his mouth before he had the opportunity to drag them back. “If you were cooped up for so long…do you want to do some studying in Hogsmeade? We can get one of those private rooms at the Three Broomsticks if you want.” He heard himself babbling away, but couldn’t stop. “Who knows, maybe a change of scenery would help for your next line of research.”

Her flat stare morphed into something unreadable, and she eventually broke eye-contact with him, staring down at his chest. Her hands moved up to some hair that hung over one shoulder and began tugging lightly on the end.

“After that horrible argument with Astoria, and being stuck in my room for a week…I thought a lot about what you said once I was too exhausted to read. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to get out of the castle every now and again.”

“What about Astoria's...you know?” his traitorous mouth asked for him.

Her mouth curled into a grimace and her gaze dropped to her shoes. “You saw what she thinks of my hard work. And that was just the end of a very long, very loud fight.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “Well, maybe the change of scenery will help with another breakthrough or something. I’ll see you tomorrow at the entrance tomorrow after lunch?”

“See you there.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Harry found himself standing outside the large entry doors, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers. He pulled one hand out to shield his eyes from the sun, the uncharacteristically warm October day bringing sweat to his brow. He stepped back into the school, the shade bringing almost instant relief. He glanced down at his maroon button-up and hoped it wasn’t too...much. He should have known better than to take Ron’s clothing advice.

He popped the button on the sleeves and rolled them up to his elbow. He’d just finished the second one when Daphne turned the corner and put all his worries about being overdressed out of his mind.

Instead of her usual robes that he’d grown accustomed to, she wore a forest green sun-dress that fell to just above her knees. A small pattern of nightingales in flight encircled the hem of her dress. A line of them soared up the side, shifting gradually into vines that crisscrossed her breast while a black undershirt peeked out through the tangled foliage. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, the thick strands of a matching green bow peeking out from either side of her head. She strode purposefully toward him, a small pile of books floating close behind. 

“Well,” she said once she approached. “We’re both rather representative, aren’t we?”

He let out a short laugh, trying to force his gaze from the curves in her dress. “And here I was worried that I’d overdressed.”

She nodded slowly in response, one hand picking at the seam of her dress. “As had I. It’s too warm for robes, but I wasn’t quite sure what was...proper, and Tracey has already left for Hogsmeade.”

Harry turned and started down the path with a wave of his hand, and she followed close behind. “Ron said they were going to Puddifoots today.”

“Yes, she’s been going on about that for days now,” Daphne said, a corner of her mouth pulled up in a half-smile. “I’m not sure if I’m happy I won’t have to hear about it anymore or upset that I’ll now get to hear a detailed run-down of their date. She has an unfortunate tendency to...overshare.”

“So does Ron,” Harry said with a grimace. “His mouth runs away with him sometimes. He’s gotten better though. Lavender really let him have it one time, and he felt terrible.”

Daphne shook her head, her hair swinging behind her with the motion. “I’m confident that Tracey does it simply because she finds it hilarious.”

Silence broke out between them, allowing for only the soft thud of their shoes on the cobbles, and the occasional shout drifting up as they drew closer to the village. He glanced over at her, watching as she scanned the village ahead, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched. Her nose suddenly wrinkled, and she pointed up in front of them.

“ _That’s_ Madam Puddifoots?” she asked, her finger raised towards a tall pink building gracing one of the side-streets. “Tracey said it was distinct, not...garish.”

Harry stared at her in surprise. “I saw you in Hogsmeade last week. How have you never even seen it?”

Blank appraisal was his answer before she finally shrugged. “I’ve only ever been to the apparition zone. It’s not one of the buildings I pass, so I would have had no cause to see it before. I’ve only heard of it through conversation.” She paused, her eyes squinting in recollection. “I believe Tracey said they have a rather robust dessert menu. That may make up for its horrendous appearance.”

“I’ve never been,” he said, scratching at his chin as he spoke. “Ginny, uh...that wasn’t really her kind of place.”

“And I expect it would be awkward to go by yourself,” she allowed, her gaze sweeping the street as they turned towards the Three Broomsticks. “Have you made arrangements for the private room?”

Harry almost missed a step and attempted to turn the stumble into a quick look down the street behind them. “Er...no. Usually, if I need one I just ask.”

“Ah. I had assumed it was reservation based. No matter.” She hesitated, her confidant forward-facing stare faltering and she glanced over at him. “I was hoping we might be able to sit downstairs...in the main area.”

“Sure,” he said, his brows raised in surprise. “But it’ll probably be pretty loud, not exactly ideal for studying.”

“I doubt it’ll be louder than Draco used to be when he was shouting about whatever it was you had done to him, and I managed through that just fine. We can always leave if we need to.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a laugh. He pulled the door to the Three Broomsticks open and followed her inside. She led him to a booth in a back corner, allowing the books to drop gently onto the table as she slid onto the cracked leather seat.

“It’s dirtier than I expected,” she said, craning her neck to look around.

He forced his eyes shut once he realized he was staring, and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Sure it’d been over a year since he’d split up with Ginny, but he needed to pull himself together. “I mean,” he said, resettling his glasses properly on his nose, “it _is_ a pub.”

“Even so...the way people talked about it you’d think it was some jewel of a place. Not a smoky tavern.”

“It’s one of the few places to hang out around here, so that probably has something to do with it,” he said, shrugging. “And the drinks aren’t too bad. Madam Rosmerta has some pretty decent firewhiskey stashed away.”

As though summoned by her name, the pub owner swept up to their table, a threatening smile trained on Harry. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t overhear you admitting to swiping some of my product when you were underage,” she said, her hands on her hips. “And you’re going to pay me a little extra. Sound like a deal?”

“I’ll pay you double if you don’t tell anyone you saw us here,” he said with a quick glance over at Daphne, who stared back, perplexed.

“I don’t usually rat out my patrons,” Madam Rosmerta said with a more genuine grin. “But you can’t take it back now. What’ll it be?”

Harry placed an order for two butterbeer, though he desperately wanted at least a tiny bit of firewhiskey for his wound-tight nerves. Daphne continued to stare at him, prompting a quick explanation.

“You know there are already rumors about us,” he said with a small shrug. “I didn’t think we would want to give them any more fuel.”

Her confusion faded into something softer, and she smiled. “That is kind but useless. They will say what they want regardless of what we do, and we didn’t exactly make an effort to hide ourselves on the way in. Surely you noticed everyone staring at us as we passed them?”

He nodded, keeping to himself that he knew exactly who they’d all been staring at, and for once, it wasn’t him. Moments later, two pewter mugs full of butterbeer were placed in front of them, the foam at the top spilling over onto the dark wooden tabletop. Daphne ran a finger up the side of her mug to catch the foam and stuck it in her mouth. Her eyes grew wide, and she gave an involuntary shudder.

“That is awfully sweet,” she said, tasting another small fingertip of foam.

“Do you not like sweet things?” he asked, taking a long drink from his mug. The foam tickled his nose while the cool drink helped push away the lingering heat from the sun.

“I do,” she said, taking a tentative sip of her own. “Just in moderation. This is almost like drinking syrup.” She took another drink and nodded slowly. “But it’s growing on me. What else do they have?”

What followed was a taste test of the various shakes and sodas offered by an increasingly happy Madam Rosmerta. Fortunately for Harry’s coin purse, Daphne drew the line at the alcoholic drinks, where he’d have needed a quick trip to Gringotts to fund a double-priced test of that sizable menu. Daphne nursed her butterbeer throughout her trials, absently sipping on it as they talked while the books sat pushed to the side to make room for the empty mugs and glasses.

The sun was low in the sky when they emerged from the Three Broomsticks. A gentle breeze blew down the street, rustling through his hair and earning a muffled complaint from Daphne. She grumbled as she untied her bow and ran her hands through her hair to wrangle the strands the wind had blown loose. She retied the bow with a sharp tug and a nod.

“Since this has been a complete bust for studying,” she said, her hands crossed beneath her chest, “I want to go see Puddifoots up close. I’d like to be able to picture the building while she’s telling me all about it.”

“You want to go...to Puddifoots?” He repeated dumbly. How had a change in scenery for Astoria’s cure turned into-

“Not inside,” she said, fixing him with a small, knowing smile. “Then the rumors really would be unbearable, wouldn’t they?”

Harry could only nod, letting her lead the way back towards the still-visible pink tip of Madam Puddifoots. They weaved through the crowd, Daphne’s books floating overhead so as not to bump into anyone. The evening sun warmed the back of his neck with a heat that was certainly not from staring at her backside as she led him through the crowd.

He stopped just shy of bumping into her when she came to an abrupt halt only a few buildings away from their destination. Harry peered over the top of her head to find a hand waving vigorously at them from in front of Puddifoots, with Ron’s mop of red hair easily visible above the shorter crowd.

Tracey pulled Ron along as she approached, a cheshire grin crawling across her face. “Well, fancy meeting you two here,” she said, staring at Daphne as she spoke. “You get lost on your way to the private rooms above the Three Broomsticks, or did you finally give into Potter’s incessant requests for a date?”

“Hey!” he protested. “I don’t-”

Daphne’s quick nod was as effective as a silencing charm. “It’s been acceptable thus far, but he’ll need to pick it up a bit if he wants another.”

He saw Tracey’s wide eyes shift over to him in his periphery, but he couldn’t stop staring at Daphne’s calm profile.

“Well,” Tracey said, grabbing a bewildered Ron by the hand. “We’ll leave you to it then.” She all but sprinted away with Ron in tow.

“And now she’s going to spy on us,” Daphne said with a sigh, turning to him. A nervous smile pulled at her mouth as she stared up into his dumbfounded expression. “You know, staring blankly at me isn’t quite a move in the right direction. I expect a bit of effort you know.”

“This...what? What happened?”

Her mock-ire faltered in the face of his utter confusion. Her brows drew together over a small frown and she peered up at him for a moment before answering. “You’re remarkably earnest. It drives me a little crazy.”

“I’m…sorry?”

She nodded curtly and raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t joking about needing to pick it up. You’re going to need to try a bit harder.”

Her wide blue eyes stared expectantly at him and managed to drive any further thought from his head. He glanced around frantically, his eyes falling on the bright pink front of Madam Puddifoots.

“ _Try_ **_much_ ** _harder._ ”

“Got it,” he said, unable to combat the reflexive swallow that followed her frosty command. He scrambled through his mental map of Hogsmeade, his desperate search coming up wanting. Somewhere to talk might be nice, somewhere that’s not a dirty, currently overpriced pub. As he felt himself grow frustrated against the wall that was his limited options, he could hear Hermione’s oft-repeated admonition. 

‘ _Are you a wizard or aren’t you?’_

He turned to her, an idea taking vague shape in his mind. If the stories he’d heard from Angelina and Alicia during the downtime between drills had been true, the twins had been rather good at planning dates, and one stood out beyond the rest. He glanced over his shoulder to the west, the sky a burning red with the setting sun.

“You have an idea?” she asked, her eyes flashing bright with anticipation.

He extended an arm. “Hold on tight, I know just the place.”

She pulled her wand from the side of her dress and sent her books flying back towards the school. She snaked her other hand around his elbow and looked up expectantly.

With a quiet pop, they vanished.

~~XxX~~

The beach just down the coast from shell cottage flashed into existence around them, just as deserted as he remembered it. The sand beneath his shoes sank under their weight while a crisp ocean breeze carried the salty scent of the ocean. A pleased gasp from Daphne pulled a grin to his face, and she whirled to face him. Excitement shone bright in her eyes as she warred against a smile.

“The beach is a good, safe choice,” she commended him, finally allowing the grin to spread across her face. He couldn’t help but stare. “I haven’t been to one since I was a very little girl. I remember loving to swim…” She trailed off, suddenly squatting down and untying the laces of her shoes. She slipped the shoe and sock off with one fluid motion, and shifted her foot back and forth in the sand until it was buried up to the ankle. “It’s warm.”

The sky was a blend of orange and red, the light captured in lines of fluffy clouds that crossed above them. She looked around appreciatively and took in a deep breath.

“Well done,” she said, turning to him, beaming. “It’s amazing.”

After removing her other shoe and setting them at the border of the sand and grass, she waded out into the calm water, the bottom of her dress held slightly up and away from the waves. Harry pulled his shoes off as well, walking just slightly into the surf, wishing desperately that he’d worn shorts so he could join her. As though sensing his mild distress, she came over to him and wrapped an arm around his, pulling him into a walk down the beach, their feet splashing through the water with each step.

“A walk along the beach,” she said, her gaze fixed out on the darkening horizon. The deep dark blue of the eastern sky stretched towards the sun, pushing its light away along with it. “You’re much smoother than I expected.”

Harry laughed, a little of his nervousness seeping away with her clear pleasure at his choice. “I’m the smooth one? You had me on a date before I even knew it.”

She affected a frown, but he could see the occasional twitch of the corners of her lips as she fought to keep it in place. “You know, conventional wisdom holds that you’re supposed to be the one who asks me. That’s how courting in our world works.”

“I’m pretty sure Tracey was the one that went running after Ron, so I’m not sure that quite holds up,” he countered with a grin.

“Maybe I’m more traditional when it comes to dating than she is.”

He laughed, the sound carried away by the salty sea winds. “You told me yourself you haven’t been on a date. That means that your standards should be super low.”

“They clearly are,” she said, pinching his elbow for emphasis. “But seeing as I’m so magnanimous, you may try again.”

Harry nodded, taking care to extract the foot he’d nearly stuck in his mouth. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

She shook her head, the wind whipping her ponytail madly behind her head. The remnant sunlight glinted off small reflective spots on her ribbon that he hadn’t noticed before, while it set her hair ablaze with an orange to match the sky.

“Not that question.” Her voice was almost lost among the waves.

He pulled them to a stop and looked down at her nervous blue gaze. She chewed her lip and squeezed his arm insistently.

“Do you…want to be my girlfriend?”

She nodded, another nervous smile that tugged at his chest blooming slowly across her features. She turned back towards the setting sun, resuming their walk through the surf. They walked in companionable silence for a time, while Harry tried not to focus too hard on her cool hand on his forearm.

“I thought it would have felt different,” she said eventually, glancing over at him. “Being…together.”

“It will, eventually,” he assured her.

She smiled playfully up at him. “You _are_ the experienced one here, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Well, let’s not make it sound like an insult.”

She laughed softly, a noise that sounded alien coming from her usually stern visage. When he looked over to find a pure, honest grin as she stared off into the sunset, her hair lifted by the sea breeze, he wondered how he’d not heard it sooner.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She turned an inquisitive eye on him. “What happened with you two anyway? You were the source of such gossip that even _I_ heard about it.”

“It’s conventional wisdom not to talk about past girlfriends on a first date.”

“Ah.”

They stopped at a small rocky outcrop at Daphne’s request, and sat down at the edge, facing the last sliver of sunlight. Waves occasionally lapped at their feet as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, only a small burst of red to mark where it had vanished.

“Well,” she said into the quiet night air. “What _does_ conventional wisdom tell us we may do?”

Harry was glad for the darkness, as he felt his ears warm for his answer. “Well…I mean…it depends on the girl really.”

She turned to him, the last remnant of sunlight glinting off her cheeks. “If you’re going to do it Potter, do it before I lose my nerve.”

He swallowed. “Shouldn’t you at least call me Harry if we’re dating now?”

“Harry. Please. You’ll lose the moment.”

Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined, and the gentle gasp of surprise as they met spurred him eagerly on.


	10. Chapter 10

Even after such a stellar first date, Harry found the rest of his week passing by in a surprisingly normal fashion. No matter how nice the change in their relationship, they’d still made little progress with Daphne’s project, and he had not yet heard from the bookseller. To his surprise, she didn’t seem to mind as much as he would have thought, though she still inquired after it almost daily.

It wasn’t until after the next study session that he had to address the new rumors personally, and instead of coming via Dean, as usual, it came in the form of Daphne’s best friend. She stormed up to him after he’d dismissed the class, still stopping to give Ron a quick kiss on the cheek as she approached.

“It took some doing,” she said by way of greeting, “but I finally got Daph to tell me about your first date. Even with this, she’s so. damn. private. But the beach, huh? Nicely done. And sneaking a kiss too? I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t sneak anything,” he muttered, glancing over to Ron who was staring open-mouthed at him, a look of naked betrayal shining in his eyes.

“Thanks for setting the bar super high, mate,” he said. “You didn’t tell me you took her to the beach. It’s not my fault I’m not allowed to apparate yet.”

“Neither am I, technically,” Harry pointed out. “I haven’t got my license. I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, but at least you’re of-age,” Ron grumbled. “At least I’ve got some time to plan.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tracey said fondly. “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to Harry privately for a moment.”

“Sure,” Ron said, pointing to the door. “I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done. I don’t have a beach out there, but hopefully, you’ll still want to spend some time together before curfew.”

Tracey nodded and smiled at him as he left, her expression quickly dropping as he stepped through the door.

“Tracey, what’s wro-?”

“How’d you do it?” she growled, stepping forward and poking him on the chest with one pointed finger. She glared up at him. “If I didn’t think you were a genuinely good guy, I’d think the Imperious, but even then she’s probably too damn stubborn to fall for one. So how’d you get her out of the castle, and on a date no less? Do you have any idea how many people she’s turned down over the years?”

“No?”

“Sixteen boys and four girls. Probably more when her dad forced her out on vacation. So, how’d you manage it?”

“It was her idea. Until she mentioned it to you, I had no idea it was a date.”

“ _What_?”

He’d expected laughter, or confusion, not the icy response he received instead.

“What’s wrong? It can’t be that bad that she’s dating me. I’m a decent enough guy.”

“You are,” Tracey agreed with a nod. “I’d actually hoped for this, but now is…not what I expected.”

“You…what?”

“You’re a nice guy, Harry,” she said with a shrug. “She could do worse. A lot worse. I think I know you well enough to know you’ll actually care for her, rather than just about her incredible body.” She held her hands out in front of her chest and made a silhouette in the air that made his face heat.

“Were _you_ one of those girls she turned down?” he asked. “And here I thought you were into Ron.”

“Oh, I am. Ron’s amazing, I’m just saying…I guess this has become the ‘take care of my friend or I’ll hurt you’ talk. I’m not sure _how_ I’d beat up the guy who dueled Voldemort into the ground, but I’m creative, I can come up with something.”

“Noted.”

The last pieces of joviality slowly dropped from her face, exposing a furrowed, worried brow and pleading eyes. “Don’t tell her, but I worry about her. A lot. Her entire life has been this project, and I never could figure out what she was going to do after Astoria died. This is the first thing I’ve ever seen her pursue for herself. I’m happy to see it, it’s just a little…strange.”

Harry nodded slowly. “She and Astoria had a pretty big falling out after their last outing.”

“She told me.”

“Did she tell you she had to promise Astoria it’d be her last attempt?”

“She did not, but if I know Daphne, that was a big fat lie.”

He nodded. “That’s what she said, but maybe it’s bothering her a bit. She said she’d spent some of the time while sick thinking about something I’d said to her about regretting not doing anything with her time here. Maybe those things together made it stick?”

“Could be,” she allowed, then shrugged. “She’s one of a kind, so speculating about why she does what she does is an exercise in futility. Congratulations on landing yourself an incredible girlfriend. _I’m_ off to snog the wits out of my amazing boyfriend.” She laughed at Harry’s instant look of disgust and waved goodbye as she trotted from the room to meet up with Ron.

~~XxX~~

He found Daphne in the library the next day, her papers scattered all around her like usual. She had fewer books scattered around and was staring off into the middle distance when he stepped around the corner. She jumped when she finally noticed him and gave him a halfhearted glare.

“You _could_ put up an alarm spell, you know,” he said, pointing down the aisle with his thumb.

“I tried,” she said, an embarrassed smile flitting across her features, “a few years ago after we learned it. Madam Pince said the only reason students use it in the library is to ‘get up to no good.’ She threatened to kick me out if I did it again.”

“I see…” he said, privately admiring the bright red flush of her ears. “Would you want to come down to Hogsmeade on a date? Or we could go somewhere else again if you want.”

Her attractive blush faded as she shook her head slowly. “As nice as it sounds, I still have work to do.” She glanced over and gave a weak smile. “Plus I’m still not feeling fully myself again. I had thought the ocean air might have helped clear my head after being cooped up in the dungeons, but…”

“I figured it was a bit of a long-shot,” he said, scooting his chair closer to hers. “Can I help then?”

“Do you have that book?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, and I’m about to find the seller and just take it. This is ridiculous. How long could it take to respond to a simple letter?”

She smiled indulgently. “He’s probably verifying that your seal is the real deal. Imagine if you had just denied someone an incredibly rare book, and then a handful of days later the savior of your world makes the same request. I’d think something was up too. I can’t exactly blame them for being cautious.”

“I guess that makes sense. So what are we studying now?” He scooted his chair even closer so he could look over her shoulder at the book in front of her, and she gently closed it with one hand. Across the front in swirling calligraphic letters was: ‘ _Souls and Their Relation to the Physical Self: An Unexplored Frontier_.’

“ _We_ are studying nothing,” she said, letting her hand fall to her lap. She looked over to him, a teasing light dancing in her eyes. Her lips curled up into a small smile. “You are far too distracting.”

His hand reached up to her chin and pulled her forward. He met no resistance as she leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed just before their lips met. Their second kiss was as warm and gentle as their first by the seaside. Without the roaring ocean next to them, he could hear her small gasps when they parted briefly, the familiar fragrance of her shampoo clear for their proximity. Her hand traced its way up his chest, leaving burning lines of desire in its wake. He felt her sigh against him, a mix of pleasure and regret. Her hand on his chest grew firm, and she pushed him back.

“You see,” she breathed. The fire that burned behind her eyes did little to help settle him. “A distraction, though welcome, is a distraction nonetheless. I cannot stop working on this. Not right now.”

“I know,” he said, reluctantly leaning back in his chair. “I do want to help, I’m just not sure I’d be the most help with this sort of theoretical stuff.”

A teasing smile flitted across her woefully unoccupied lips. “Not to mention the lack of discipline you have already demonstrated.”

He shrugged, returning her grin. “You are awfully distracting.”

“Then the feeling is mutual. I will not always turn you down for dates, but right now I need to keep working. I will see you soon, Harry, but for now, please leave.”

He nodded and stood. She looked up at him expectantly, and he bent down for a quick parting kiss. He pulled back and grunted in pleasant surprise when her hand snagged the front of his uniform. She pulled him fiercely down into a much longer, much less chaste goodbye.

~~XxX~~

The next study session ended with Professor Martín making a brief appearance just as the lesson ended. She approached Harry, her eyebrows raised high in surprise.

“It’s still just you, is it?” she asked with a faint smile. “While I’d have expected Miss Granger, you seem to be doing quite well for your students.”

“They’re just my friends,” he said with a shrug. “I just show them what I learned out there.”

“Your friends can be your students too. Did you not teach them when you led the D.A.?”

“This is different,” he protested, feeling oddly mulish.

“If you say so.”

Harry glanced around the empty room for some sort of conversational prompt, and for once, the room of requirement did not provide. He sighed. “Was there something you needed Professor? I usually try to help my girlfriend do some studying before curfew.”

“Not really,” she answered. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were getting along. I’ve heard good things from the people attending, and I was curious.”

Harry paused, his own curiosity coming to life. “You have? What do they say?”

A slow smile spread across her features. “A piece of free advice as a teacher: Your decisions won’t always be the popular one. Especially when you’re teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I can’t imagine people were too thrilled to be properly dueling their classmates?”

He shook his head, then grimaced. “So they aren’t really enjoying it then?”

“They think your lessons are incredible. To a one, I’ve heard nothing but good things.” She laughed lightly and shook her head. “I just didn’t want you to think it’d always be that way. I’m sure you’ve learned things from teachers that were difficult to handle. Good class, bad presentation?”

“The class where we were shown the unforgivables as fourth-years comes to mind.”

She boggled at him for a bare moment before she managed to school her features. “I have no idea how I am only just now hearing about that. It’s a wonder any of your classmates know anything about defense at all.” She appraised him for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Maybe your little association had a bigger impact than I’d thought.”

“I’m not sure I can take credit for everyone’s education. Professor Lupin was great, and so was Crouch…mostly.”

“Whether you feel like you can or not is immaterial. You made a measurable difference from your decision.” She smiled kindly. “I came to see what all the fuss was about, but I also came to thank you.”

“What for?”

“I can’t quite explain the unique challenges this post has brought.” She shook her head. “The third-years have it worst. Their first teacher was that dreadful ministry woman. And last year…well…it’s difficult to have an effective defense class as it’s being taken over by practitioners of the dark arts. You’ve taken a lot off my shoulders, and I’m appreciative for your help.”

“Oh. Er…you’re welcome.”

“Again, my office is always open should you need any help. Feel free to stop by any time.” She gestured to the door with a thumb. “I’ve monopolized your time long enough. There’s not long left before curfew, so you’d better get going if you’re going to help Miss Greengrass.”

A groan escaped him before he could stop it. “Even the teachers know?”

She laughed. “I’m sorry to say the students talk of little else right now. So go on, might as well do what you like. People will talk either way.”

“That’s the truth,” he grumbled, moving towards the door. “Thanks for stopping by Professor.”

He waved goodbye and sped towards the library. There wasn’t much time left before they’d be shooed from their corner of the library. Maybe she wouldn’t mind a little distraction at the end of the night.

~~XxX~~

“You’re insufferable,” Hermione complained from her place next to him at the breakfast table. “You’re both completely insufferable.”

“What?” Ron asked defensively. “Cause we’re both happy for once?”

“Cause you’re sitting there grinning like two huge dorks,” she said, finally letting a teasing grin crawl across features. “I’m happy for you both, but for Merlin’s sake, I’d almost wish you’d just brag and get it over with.”

“We’re not that bad and you know it,” Harry said, sifting through his stack of mail. He paused, a bright yellow envelope close to the bottom catching his eye. He pulled it out and his friends quickly sobered.

“Cedric?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “He’s the only one who colors the envelopes so I’ll notice them.” He popped open the envelope and pulled the letter free.

_Harry,_

_First off. I know. You don’t want to be in on the Order stuff anymore. But I figured this is probably something you’d want to know about._

_I don’t know how in the loop you are with regards to the raids. The Death Eaters have been quick and sneaky, generally only resorting to violence once they’ve been found out. We’ve been running surveillance on Malfoy Manor, and we had a bit of an…incident. Angelina was on duty and thought she caught sight of Rookwood apparating outside of the wards. I don’t really think I need to tell you what happened next. Luckily everyone is okay, but a Ministry unit that was stationed there had to intervene, and it blew their cover._

_Very long story short, we’ve received a notice to desist from the Ministry. Kingsley wants to shutter the order. Supposedly he’s under some pressure from the new head of the DMLE to crack down on the ‘vigilante issue.’ On the plus side, all the active members of the Order have been offered jobs at the Ministry, so that’s good I suppose._

_I know this isn’t your thing anymore, but if you have any thoughts I’m all ears. It feels wrong to be the one to shut down something Dumbledore started, but at the same time, we are operating outside the law. Or at the very least skirting the edges._

_I hope you’re doing well. Cho tells me you have a new girlfriend, so congratulations are in order! I feel like I should probably send you some normal letters. It seems like it’s always Order stuff when we talk. Oh well._

_Take care!_

_Cedric_

Harry couldn’t help but grin down at the end of the letter. Cedric had become an extremely capable leader, and the position had never managed to dull his general likability and friendliness. 

“Good news?” Hermione asked, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of the letter.

“Not really, no. Just Cedric being Cedric.” He handed over the letter for her to read.

He vanished the rest of the letters in time to see Daphne approaching their table. Her stride was quick and purposeful, but he could see the stiffness in her arms and neck. He suppressed a smile.

“Harry,” she said in greeting, sliding onto the bench across from him. “Granger, Weasley.”

“You can call us by our first names you know,” Hermione said, frowning down at the letter in her hand. “I expect if the two of you are together we’ll probably be seeing quite a bit of each other over the years.”

“Over the-” Daphne hesitated a moment, flashing Harry a quick glance. “Yes. I suppose you’re right. I assume that letter isn’t what I thought it was?”

“Is that the only reason you came over?” Harry said, grinning. He found her foot under the table and gave it a tap of his own. She jumped and nodded.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I-”

Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a loud thud as Tracey dropped herself into the seat next to Ron, leaning against him with a sigh. “It’s about time. I’ve been wanting to eat over here for ages, but didn’t want to leave you alone over there, Daph.”

“I’m not-”

“Hope you don’t mind having us for the foreseeable future!” she continued, grinning widely at Harry and Hermione.

“Of course not,” Harry said, catching Daphne’s eye. She pursed her lips at him but eventually relaxed into her seat. He felt the gentle touch of her foot as she rested it against his. It didn’t move as she listened politely to the talk of Quidditch and Hogsmeade visits, of Hermione’s studies and predictions for top scorers. She neatly deflected inquiries into their first date, and to whether or not they had kissed any more. Though Harry suspected the luminescent blush that crept up her neck and onto her face gave away what her words wouldn’t. He got lost in the welcome normalcy of the rest of breakfast, stealing glances and light touches when nobody but his girlfriend was looking.

~~XxX~~

Harry trudged down the path towards the Quidditch pitch, ignoring the jostles of the younger students streaming by him to get the best seats for the Gryffindor Ravenclaw match. He’d not been able to make good on his half-hearted promise to see every game, but Daphne had assured him she didn’t need his help. To his utter surprise, his solo trek was interrupted by the other Greengrass sister, who stood waiting for him by the entrance to the stands.

“Astoria?” he said by way of greeting, earning him a quick nod and a frown in return. “What’s wrong.”

She laughed mirthlessly as she fell into step alongside him, keeping pace as he climbed the stairs up to the stands. “We could start with how you’ve utterly failed in your promise to me.”

He frowned over at her. She met him with an unwavering blank stare. “I only promised I’d try,” he pointed out, squinting as they emerged back out into the afternoon sun. “And I did.”

“So you _tried_ ,” she said acidly, sliding gingerly by the knees of people who had already taken their seats. “And you failed. Now what?”

“Now I help her.” He dropped down into a space with a few open seats. He hadn’t been able to catch sight of Luna’s distinctive lion-head.

Astoria turned theatrically around, waving an arm to encompass the stadium. “Yes. This looks like a treasure trove of information.”

“She said she didn’t need me there today,” he said defensively. “She says sometimes I’m more distracting than I am helpful.”

“Gross,” Astoria said flatly. “She _would_ say that, but if you had any self-control, you’d be able to focus plenty enough for the both of you.”

He studied her, her gray-blue eyes staring rebelliously back. “What’s gotten into you? First it was make her stop, now it’s help her at every moment.”

Her mouth worked, though her lips stayed sealed. Anger burst into life across her face and she set her jaw. “She needs consistency,” she finally ground out. “Help her or don’t, but make up your mind. If you choose not to, let me know, so I can curse you too.”

He felt his own anger come alive in response. “So do you hate her for working so hard on your behalf, or do we need to work even harder for you? Which is it? You can’t talk of consistency and switch around like this!"

Her gaze finally fell, and she stared down at her lap. “I don’t hate her. Despite how infuriating she is, she makes it _really_ hard to hate her. I still can’t be around her though.”

“She said you two got in a big row about whatever it was she tried on you last time. Was it _that_ bad?”

“I can’t tell you,” she replied instantly, a frown pulling at her mouth. “Just go help her. _Please_.”

“Sure,” he agreed slowly, rising back to his feet. “We’ll figure it out. She’s way smarter than I am, so don’t worry.”

“The only people who stop worrying when someone says, ‘don’t worry,’ are idiots.” Her frown grew deeper as she struggled against her words. “Whatever. Just go. Please.”

He left the stadium, a small pang of regret filtering through his bewilderment as he heard the Gryffindor team get announced. He pushed it away. Astoria was right. If he properly focused, Daphne would too. Progress would come soon enough.


	11. Chapter 11

His feet carried him to the library of their own accord, though once he realized where he was headed, he made no move to change his destination. He only hoped his girlfriend was able to chat for at least a little bit before diving back into her work. After Cedric’s letter, he’d found himself unable to work on the lesson plan for the upcoming study session. Rather than ideas for helping his peers pass the NEWTs, the only thing his mind would conjure were scenario upon scenario of how he could take down Malfoy Manor, and the remaining Death Eaters. How he should have done so ages ago, Ministry position or no, sanctioned or no. How much blood did he have on his hands that he didn’t even know about?

A second-year scuttled out of his way as he stormed through the doors to the library. His footsteps were loud against the oppressive bookshelves to either side. He had to try not to break into a run for the minor salvation that sat hidden in the last row. He stopped just shy of Daphne’s workspace and took a deep breath. She didn’t deserve to be burdened with his hangups alongside saving her sister. He stepped forward, the wide-eyed surprise and bright smile he received as a welcome was a balm to his black mood.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as he sat down next to her. “You look troubled.”

“Am I that transparent?”

She shook her head, her long hair brushing against her back with the motion. “Not always. But I did hear you stomping up, and then your heavy sigh just before stepping around the corner.” She smiled. “I don’t need an alarm charm to notice that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s wrong?” she repeated, shutting the book in front of her and turning to him.

“It’s…leftover war stuff. I’m not sure that’s really what you signed on for though.”

She appraised him coolly before raising her nose slightly into the air. “I will be the judge of what I signed on for. You are correct that I have no interest in being someone who worries whether or not you will come back one evening, but I think those sorts of days are behind you, are they not?”

“What about when I become an Auror? I told Kingsley I’d join up after school was over. They need me.”

She frowned at him and let her head drop from its exaggerated position. “We will cross that bridge if we get to it. I do not think being an Auror is quite the same as single-handedly winning a war.”

“It wasn’t single-handed,” he grumbled, the scab on that particular gripe pulling away. “Ron and Hermione were with me.”

“But _they_ didn’t defeat Voldemort.”

“Without them, I couldn’t have. They deserve that damned medal just as much as I do. Probably more for the hell I put them through.” He jumped when her hand landed gently on his knee, and he looked over in time for worried blue eyes to capture his heart just a little bit more.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” she asked, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

He swallowed, forcing his thoughts back to the ruminations that had brought him to her in the first place. “Cedric has been told he has to shut down the Order. They had a run-in with the Ministry, and have been labeled a proper vigilante group. Kingsley told Cedric he’s got to recall what’s left of our team and shut it down.”

Her head tilted slightly to the side, her lips turning down into a small frown. “I assume you’re talking about the Order of the Phoenix?” He nodded. “When they showed up along with you to the battle it was pretty clear you’d been working together. But…what does what’s happening now have to do with you?”

He shrugged guiltily, shifting his gaze up to the vaulted ceiling, unable to look at her any longer lest he lose his threadbare control. “If I’d taken those Death Eaters out before now, or stayed with the order, or helped the Ministry, they wouldn’t be still scouting their supposed base of operations, and there wouldn’t still be raids. But I didn’t. Because I wanted to come back to school.”

Her hand tightened momentarily on his knee, but she didn’t let go. “’Taken out?’ I’m surprised. I had not expected that sort of fighting from you.”

He blinked up at the rafters. “Are you disappointed?”

“Only surprised.”

Her hand never wavered, and he could feel her calm gaze resting on his face as sure as if it were a comforting blanket. The need to speak, to fill the silence rose in him and the words tumbled free from the chains he hadn’t realized he possessed.

“Ron was first,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, though it felt like a bass rumble in his throat. “It was after a failed attack near the end of the war. We had tried to fly out on broomsticks to get out of the anti-apparition wards. They caught my broom with a curse, exploding it out from under me. We were a couple dozen feet in the air at top speed. I hit the ground, bleeding from the impact and the cursed wood that lodged in my legs. Hermione landed to try to heal me so I could walk, while Ron dueled McNair and Dolohov by himself. It was a reductor that got them both. He was absolutely brilliant."

He could hear the story spilling from him, picking up speed as he spoke each word. Something deep inside him screamed at him to stop, but he could not.

“Gibbons and Goyle showed up as reinforcements, but by that time Hermione had wrapped my legs to staunch the bleeding, and healed most of my injuries from the impact. Ron was in a bit of a state…so I took care of them. After that, we changed our tactics. We weren’t as ruthless as they were, but we stopped sticking to stunners and disarms. We were…efficient.”

He brought his gaze back from the past, and glanced over at her, expecting, at the very least, disgust, if not outright revulsion. He did a double-take when he saw the same warm gaze she’d worn before he started his torrent of secrets best left buried.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t know why I told you all that. We’ve been dating for an entire week and hadn’t spoken to each other at all before the awards ceremony. A ceremony for an award I’m not even sure I want to keep.”

Her hand squeezed reaffirming pressure into his leg, pulling him back into the library with her. “Then let’s take that as a sign of how badly you needed to tell someone. I am not going to judge you for doing what you had to do.”

“But we didn’t _have_ to. We should’ve been able to be better than that. Dumbledore wouldn’t have done it.”

“Well, maybe he should have,” she said fiercely, leaning towards him. “If he had, maybe it wouldn’t have fallen on your shoulders. If you hadn’t maybe you’d be dead, and it would’ve fallen to someone else. At the end of it, you defeated one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived.”

“But what kind of hero goes around killing his enemies?”

“Heroes aren’t _real_ , Harry,” she said, her persistent gaze drilling into him. “Not in the way you’re talking about.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Then you should probably believe me,” she said with a soft smile, but she quickly sobered. “I am sorry you were forced into that though. Having your choice taken away is…it’s not…”

“Thanks,” he said, trying to catch her falling gaze. “I guess I did need to talk about it. You were right.”

A small smile pushed its way through her growing frown. “You could stand to mention it more often.”

He smiled back and rose from his seat, gesturing to her workspace. “Thanks for talking with me. I should probably leave you to it, huh?”

She was on her feet before he had finished speaking and planted a kiss on his cheek that sent warm electricity all the way to the soles of his feet. “I could use a break, and you look like you could use a walk. We should enjoy one of the last few warm days of the season, shouldn’t we?”

He gratefully accepted her offer, allowing himself to be led from the library by the hand. Hers was cool, like he remembered from the beach, and soft. He curled his fingers tightly around hers, drinking deeply of the simple feeling of comfort she engendered in him.

~~XxX~~

Daphne had been quickly proved correct in her assumption that he’d needed to talk about his experience. He found himself able to focus on the upcoming study sessions and produced thorough, concrete lesson plans for the next few sessions. Her kindness also prompted him to send a follow-up letter to the bookseller, politely asking for even a simple response to his original letter. He made it a point to visit her at least once a day, helping where needed, even when that help was leaving so they wouldn’t be able to steal any more kisses between page-flips. He’d also begun the arduous task of trying to get her to join him for a Quidditch match. Gryffindor was pulling ahead in the rankings and was on track to be the team to beat for the cup. It’d taken almost a solid month of somewhat persistent requests, but after one particularly enthusiastic distraction, she finally agreed.

They snaked their way through the stands, her hand in his as they made their way to the unmistakable lion-head that marked their saved seats next to Neville and Luna. As they drew closer, Harry saw Tracey sitting next to the couple. She had a red and gold scarf wrapped tight around neck and mouth, small puffs of vapor issuing with each breath. She rubbed her hands together in front of her and scanned the crowd, her eyes eventually falling on Harry and Daphne.

“You. Are. Unbelievable,” Tracey said as she barreled forward to wrap Daphne in a hug, just to then hold her at arm's length and scowl. “I ask you to Quidditch for years, and you finally show up for a _boy_?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tracey said, turning to him with a playful grin. “For the _Boy-Who-Lived_.”

“Alright-”

Daphne squeezed his hand once before letting go and taking a seat alongside her friend. The only spot left was between Tracey, who was chatting animatedly with her recluse of a friend, and Luna, whose lion-head also wore a scarf wrapped around its lower jaw. She turned to him, her wide eyes the only thing visible behind the felt lion’s teeth.

“How are you, Harry?” she asked, her gentle voice barely audible through the multiple layers of fabric. “I haven’t seen you much since school started again.”

“I’m not bad,” he answered, grinning. “We haven’t seen each other ‘cause you and Neville are spending all your free time together.”

“Can you blame me?” she asked, the lion-head turning to look briefly over at Neville. She turned back to Harry, her eyes somehow dreamier than usual. “He’s awfully handsome, you know. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to thank you for showing us-” She let out a surprisingly un-Luna-like squeak, and turned to Neville, who leaned back to talk around the lion’s mane.

“-to thank you for introducing us through the D.A.,” he said, wrapping an arm around Luna’s middle.

She nodded, the mouth of her head decoration bobbing shut. “Yes, that too.”

A whistle pierced the chill November air, and the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams took to the field to raucous cheers. Tracey stood up as Ron sped overhead. He did a quick loop through the goals before slowing to wave down to them, and sped off to meet at the center. The teams landed on the grass in formation, and with another sharp whistle, the game began.

Tracey rose to her feet again every time Ron’s reach saved the Quaffle, her arms waving in celebration. After a third save, Daphne stood up, placed her hands gently on Tracey’s shoulders, and traded places with her.

She dropped back down on the bench next to Harry, and scooted close, wrapping an arm around his. “I did not come all the way out here to be stared at while sitting away from you at the same time. I can rectify one of those things.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said, a grin bursting from somewhere inside his chest when she gently laid her head on his shoulder. When she was feeling up to it, she could be downright aggressive during their breaks in the library, but he found himself enjoying her tender touch almost as much. He rested his head atop hers, squeezing her hand when she let out a small pleased hum. “We can get you some Gryffindor colors if you want, then you might not stand out so much,” he suggested, picking at one of the green accents on her heavy winter cloak that she clutched tightly closed over her uniform.

“They’re staring at me because I am at a Quidditch game,” she said, her voice drifting up from his shoulder. “Not because I am a Slytherin. Besides, next year the houses will not matter, so I am unconcerned to appear a ‘house-traitor.’ Everyone knows we are together anyway.”

“See? The rumor mill isn’t always wrong about us.”

“What about the one I overheard the other day? The Boy-Who-Won thawed the Ice Queen?”

“I mean,” Harry said with a grin he was glad she couldn’t see. “It’s not wholly inaccurate, is it?”

“I can hear you smiling,” she said, pinching his thigh. “Are you sure you like being referred to as the ‘Boy-Who-Won?’”

“Well,” he said, squinting his eyes in thought. “Maybe the Man-who…conquered? That’s pretty manly.” She sat up, leaving his side uncomfortably cold and vacant. Her wide-eyed stare was anything but cold, however, and he fidgeted beneath it. “Too much?”

“I’ve never heard you refer to yourself as a ‘conquerer’ before.” A slow smile pushed the rest of the world from his vision. “I like it. It suits you.”

A gentle hand on his back pushed him forward, and she met him eagerly in the middle, the quick touch of her tongue on his lip before they parted a promise for later. They settled back into their comfortable position, her head resting gently on his shoulder. Harry glanced over to see Neville give a quick wink, before wrapping his arm back around Luna.

~~XxX~~

They walked back up to the castle, hand in hand. Ron and Tracey followed closely behind, flirting relentlessly. After a particularly suggestive remark, Harry felt Daphne pick up her pace, and followed along, keeping step.

“They weren’t that bad,” he said once they’d put some distance between them and the couple in question. “At least they’re having fun.”

She fixed him with a glare that was somewhat ruined by the bright red of her nose and ears. “It’s just cold outside is all. They can have their fun if they want. She’s certainly waited long enough for it.”

“She’s really liked him for that long?” he wondered aloud, resuming their slow walk toward the library.

“Since fifth year I believe. She’s got a thing for tall guys, and he really grew over that summer. According to her, him coming back from whatever it was you three were doing in good shape was just a ‘bonus.’” He glanced over at her, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed defensively in return. “What?”

“And what’d you think of me at the award ceremony when we first met?” he asked, teasingly.

They turned the corner into the library, and let their hands drop to their sides, lest they get another scolding from Madam Pince. She left him in torturous limbo all the way back to their usual spot, refusing to release him until she’d draped her cloak over the back of her chair. She turned to him, a single eyebrow raised as she ran her hands through her hair, releasing the static.

“There are only two answers to that question,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her chest. “Either I say that I didn’t give you a second look, and hurt your feelings, or I tell you that you too had filled out quite nicely. And that you had gone from a cute, if skinny, boy, to something else entirely. And if I do that, you’ll be insufferable.”

There was no stopping his playful grin that followed her words, nor the step forward that his foot took for him. “I thought you were there for networking opportunities.”

“I was,” she said, staring up at him, immobile. “But I’m not blind.”

He took another cautious step forward until they were almost touching, and she let her arms drop her sides. She stared up at him and chewed on her bottom lip, a reminder of her promise from before. When she made no move, he leaned in to capture her lips, one arm pulling her against him. Her arms snaked up his chest, her hands resting on his neck to draw him deeper into the kiss.

His tongue mimicked her motion from before, an invitation she greedily accepted. Cool hands slid up into his hair, her fingers finding purchase as she pulled him hard against her. He slid his arm out from behind her and put a hand to her waist, pinning her against the stone wall. She gasped as he slid from her mouth, trailing fervent kisses down to her neck.

She tilted her head to allow him access, her hands still clutched tight against his head. Short ragged breaths escaped alongside throaty moans as he moved up to her ear. The scent of her shampoo barely registered through the intoxicating feeling of her hands sliding down his shoulders. They trailed electric desire down to his stomach, where she lingered, torturously, before her fingertips glided to his arm and found his wrist.

With a quick, desperate motion, she pressed his hand to her middle. She slid it slowly up, his fingers trailing over the bumps of her ribs as she slid it up to the curve of her breast. She let out a soft whimper and pressed his hand harder into her, his fingers sinking into the fabric of her shirt as he squeezed. His breathy name crossing her lips was fuel for the inferno of need inside him.

Madam Pince’s shrill voice rolled down the aisle like ice water, freezing them in their frantic motions. “The Headmistress will be wanting to know about this!” she called, her voice drawing dangerously near.

“ _Harry!_ ” Daphne pleaded, her head whipping around as she looked for an exit.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Just be quiet. Trust me.” He dropped his wand into his hand and quickly tapped them both, placing them beneath a disillusionment charm.

Madam Pince whirled around the corner, her face red with rage. She faltered, a confused frown creasing her brow. “I thought…I didn’t hear-” With one last examination, she turned and left, muttering to herself.

Harry let out a slow sigh of relief and dropped his head onto Daphne’s shoulder. “Never again,” she said shakily. “That was risky.”

“Not even if I put up a privacy charm?” he said against her neck, waving his wand in demonstration. The charm settled around them, muting the idle sounds of the castle. He nipped at the exposed edge of her collarbone, and she let out a squeal that he knew would feature prominently in his dreams that night. She pushed him back and glared at him, the effect spoiled by her red lips as they curled up into a smile.

“I’ll think about it.”


	12. Chapter 12

Unfortunately for Harry, he’d been unable to secure a repeat of either their date to the Quidditch game, or the  _ festivities _ that had followed. As November faded into December, he found himself continually, though kindly, rebuffed in his invitations out on dates. He would most often sit beside her in the library, referencing terms and rituals as she asked for them. On a few occasions, though, she gently asked him to leave. From beneath a couple of winter cloaks, she cited a general disdain for winter, and a seasonal sickness she often found herself grappling with as the main reason for his mild banishment. He’d learned to tell when she was feeling under the weather, as she grew curt in her greetings, and had little energy for anything other than her research.

When he wasn’t able to spend time with her, he poured himself into his lessons, occasionally borrowing some of Professor Martín’s time to go over lessons for the coming second half of the year. She agreed to sit in on a few of the study sessions to give some pointers and to see the progress he’d made. When not going to classes, he tried to make himself available to spend time with friends as well. Though the only one who didn’t appear busy with some sort of schoolwork was Ron, and he and Tracey seemed engaged in another type of work at almost every opportunity. For the most part, Ron managed to keep his mouth shut about their escapades. It seemed the tough lesson from Lavender regarding the term ‘private time’ had stuck firm. He wasn’t sure he would have even known anything about it had it not been for Tracey’s propensity for over-sharing. He earned himself a simple, “I told you so,” from Daphne when he mentioned as much.

It wasn’t until close to the holidays that his new routine was interrupted by the arrival of two letters. One in a bright yellow envelope and the other rolled up and sealed with a small wax imprint of a book. He vanished his other mail with a wave of his wand, and slipped away from the breakfast table, motioning for Daphne to follow him into the hall. He broke the seal on the rolled parchment first and unrolled it between his hands.

_ Mr. Potter, _

_ First, allow me to apologize for my significant delay. As I am sure you are aware, the book you have mentioned is best kept from certain hands, and I have a rather extensive process to ensure that the requests I receive are genuine. When I received one from you of all people, I hope you understand if I double-checked this time. _

_ I would be happy to discuss purchase of the book with you in person following the upcoming holidays. I’m sure you understand that there are certain precautions we must take in situations such as these, and it will take some time to arrange them. I will contact you soon after the new year and we can set a date for our meeting. _

_ I look forward to working with you, _

_ Barnabus Canon _

Once he finished, Daphne snatched the letter from his hands and pored over it. As she reached the end, her shoulders relaxed and she let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.

  
  


“Sorry it’s not until next month,” Harry said. “Should we try to get it sooner? Do you know how much time…?”

  
  


Daphne shook her head slowly, returning the letter to him. “I’m sure there’s time,” she said. “Though when last she and I talked about it, she said she was fine. I’ve come to believe she was lying about how much it affected her. She’s quite strong-willed.”

Harry planted a kiss on the top of her head. “She’s not the only one. As soon as I can get this book I’ll check it out for you, and see if it’s something you can use.”

She took a step back and stared up at him in surprise. “Even now you wouldn’t let me see it?”

He frowned down at her. “I’m sorry, but no.” An uncomfortable thought needled its way into his chest, spreading like ice. “You didn’t…to get to read the book? Did you?”

  
  


His question hung dangerously in the air as her eyes widened further, then narrowed in pointed fury. She took a hard step forward and pinned him to the wall with one slender finger on his chest.

“I am not the type of person to throw themselves at someone in that way to get what they want. I have considerable resources at my disposal and will have even more if I take over as Head of House Greengrass. Do you understand?”

He tried to sink into the wall but had to resort to a quick nod when the stone behind him refused to yield.

She poked him again for emphasis. “If I didn’t care so much for you, I’d have hexed you straight into the ground. Voldemort will look like a muggle compared to what I will do to you if you dare to suggest that I am with you for any other reason than because you are the most incredible man I have ever met.” His sense of dire panic faded in front of her growing flush. She let her finger collapse so her hand laid gently on his chest. Her gaze dropped down to her hand. “I’ve trusted you with…a lot of myself.” Her voice grew quiet as she looked back up at him. “I need you to trust me too. Not with what’s in the book, but about us.  _ Please _ .”

He nodded, pulling her into an embrace that she eagerly reciprocated. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she still held some of herself back in reserve, but then again, who was he to be upset about secrets. He couldn’t show her a book that might very well save Astoria, instead forcing her to jump through hoops just in case the knowledge got out somehow. Despite her heart-warming words, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t deserve her trust at all.

She shifted beneath his grip, rubbing her forehead against his chest. “That was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever had to say. You had better not make me do it again.”

“No promises,” he said. He let his arms fall, releasing her. She stepped reluctantly back. “It was  _ really _ nice to hear.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” she grumbled. She gestured to his hand with a nod of her head. “What’s your other letter?”

He followed her gaze, surprised to see the yellow envelope still clutched in his hand. “It’s probably from Cedric.” He quickly opened the letter and began to read.

_ Harry, _

_ I figured you ought to know, the Order shut down last week. It feels terrible to shutter an institution that Dumbledore built, but there wasn’t much we could do. The Ministry insists they can handle it now that a lot of the new recruits are through training, even though the news has emboldened the remaining Death Eaters. They’ve already hit two locations since we agreed to shut down, which is troublesome to say the least. I have a contact at the Ministry who says they’re still keeping their eye on Malfoy Manor, but unless they see more significant movement there soon, they’ll have to reduce the surveillance. Alicia and Angelina have agreed to join the Aurors, so get ready to do what they tell you when you join up as a new recruit next year. _

_ Come visit sometime, I’m not going to be doing much other than looking for a job. _

_ Take care, _

_ Cedric _

“Well,” Daphne said once she’d finished reading. “That’s not great news.”

“No,” Harry agreed slowly. “It’s not. I know Kingsley is doing his best to restore the Ministry after it got decimated, but you’d think he’d want all the help he can get, outside or no.”

“Perception is a big part of power,” she said. “Look at Voldemort. He had people scared to even say his name. How many people didn’t even try to fight him because they were so afraid?”

“Yeah…” He couldn’t stop the intrusive thought that told him he’d missed his chance to stop the debacle that was slowly taking shape. He irritably vanished the letter from his hand. He took a step back towards the Great Hall when he noticed Daphne was standing stock-still staring at him. “What?”

“Either this is the smoothest you’ve ever been at making yourself look powerful, or you just wandlessly and non-verbally vanished that letter  _ without a second thought. _ ”

“Oh,” he said, staring dumbly down at his empty hand. He shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. It’s not really a secret. I got used to keeping the extent of what I can do hidden. The fewer people know about your capabilities the more effectively you can surprise them.”

“I see…” she said slowly, appraising him with narrowed eyes. “What else can you do like that?”

“Just about any of the ones I can do non-verbally I can do wandlessly. The first non-verbal is the hardest. After that, you just have to broaden your understanding of the magic and focus your intent properly.”

She nodded, studying him as though she had never seen him before. “I…I forget, sometimes,” she said quietly, still making no move toward him. “I didn’t see your duel with him. I’ve never actually seen you in action, and you’re so damn humble you make it easy to forget that you single-handedly dueled down one of the greatest dark wizards to ever exist.”

“It wasn’t single-handed,” he protested doggedly.

“Yes, yes. But can Hermione or Ron cast all the wandless non-verbals you can?”

“They can cast a few…”

“That sounds like a ‘no’ to me.” He shrugged uncomfortably, painfully aware of the power he’d chosen not to use to quell the last of the Death Eaters. “I can see your brain working away behind those eyes of yours.” Her gentle tease pulled him from his thoughts and a small grin played across her face. She planted her feet and crossed her arms. “We have some time before people leave breakfast. Show me something else you can do.”

He nearly protested, not keen on putting his skills on display like some trained animal, but her open interest forestalled his words. There were a lot of people out there that would have him jumping through hoops and showing off just to see a glimpse of the one who defeated Voldemort, but not her.

“Okay,” he said finally. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with the handful of non-offensive spells he knew. A small plan began to hatch in his mind, and he grinned at her. Turnabout was fair-play, after all. A single eyebrow raised above her smiling blue eyes, a challenge if he ever saw one.

He focused on the silence he wanted, taking care not to allow any thoughts to intrude upon his visualization. He manifested the spell the same as if he’d spoken the words, or been holding his wand. The din of conversation from the Great Hall became muted, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. Her hands dropped to her side and she looked around in astonishment.

“You really-” she paused when she noticed his gaze on her hadn’t wavered. “What?”

He was glad she’d left her heavy cloak back at the table, or he wouldn’t have been able to have a bit of fun. He focused on her middle on one of the buttons of her shirt just below the bottom of her tie. He concentrated and summoned it to him. It popped away and flew through the air into his waiting hand.

“What was-?” her question was cut off as another button popped off and flew through the air, exposing a small window of the pale skin of her stomach. Her hands flew to her middle and her face flushed crimson, and she rushed over to him. “I suppose you think you’re clever,” she said, prying his hand open. “Fix it.”

He grinned down at her. “What makes you think I know the mending charm?”

“There is absolutely no way that you don’t,” she said. Impossibly, her blush deepened. “If you don’t fix it right now…I won’t ever let you do it again.”

He fixed her shirt in record time, letting his hand linger for a moment on the smooth skin of her stomach. She pulled him into a tantalizing kiss once he’d straightened, and led him back into the Great Hall, hand in hand.

~~XxX~~

With the holidays fast approaching, they spent almost all of their free-time on her research. She allowed him to stay on the condition that he stay focused, and not be any more distracting than he was naturally. She pored through the books with a fervor unlike any he had seen from her before. It wasn’t until a few days before they were slated to leave for the break that he managed to successfully broach the subject with her.

He’d been engrossed in looking up some sort of attunement ritual she’d requested when he noticed her cheek resting on her arms, her back rising and falling with the slow rhythm of sleep. He set his book down as quietly as possible and pushed some of her golden hair away from her face. Dark circles sat below her closed lids, and her normally fair complexion had become pallid in her exhaustion. He gently shook her awake, smiling down at her as she blinked sleepy confusion from her eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, sitting back in her chair. “I can’t seem to get enough sleep lately.”

"You catching that winter bug of yours again?”

She nodded, rubbing the heel of her hand into her eyes. “It’s making me lethargic, and it’s hard to focus.” He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder which she gently shrugged off. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel like I’ve made enough progress to take a break. I need to keep going.”

She moved to pick up her quill and he encircled her hand in his. “You’ve been working like crazy the last few weeks, and we’re limited on what we can do until that book comes. Don’t you think you’ll make some more efficient progress if you go get some sleep and come back to it well-rested?”

“I don’t-” she tried, but interrupted herself with a yawn that popped her jaw. “Ow.”

“If you think I’m not capable of getting you to the dungeons without anybody noticing you’re falling down tired, you’re dead wrong.”

“Mmm,” she hummed noncommittally, fixing tired eyes on his. “With the Imperious? How cruel.”

“What?!” he dropped her hand in surprise, and she smiled at him. “Of course not. Body-bind, levitation, and disillusion. Easy.” She made to pick up her quill again, and let out a grunt of frustration when he stopped her. “I’m not joking, Daphne. You’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to get some rest. I’d much rather escort you to the dungeons than have to force you down there.”

She finally nodded and pushed her chair back from the desk. What little energy she had seemed to leave her as she stood, and her shoulders slumped.

“Are you o-” he tried but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“If you ask me if I’m okay again, I  _ will _ find the energy to hex you out of here,” she said. She let go of his arm and grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers together.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually left the library for the night at the same time you have,” he said, looking back to the scattered mess of their work area. “Don’t you clean up?”

“Madam Pince lets me leave it there since it’s in the back and she can’t see it.”

“Don’t people mess with your stuff?"

She looked up and him and smiled dangerously. Even tired, there was steel behind her eyes. “They did once. They don’t anymore.”

They turned out of the library and walked slowly towards the dungeons. He felt her shiver beneath his hand and cast a warming charm on her cloak. She let out a satisfied sigh and squeezed his hand. “You are useful for utility, if nothing else,” she said with a smile.

“Well, that’s rude.”

“I said ‘if’ not ‘and,’” she said. She walked in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “What I should have said, was that I’m glad you’re around.”

“O-oh,” was all he could manage through the big goofy grin he could feel resting on his face. They passed the grand staircase, it’s banisters wrapped in festive tinsel and glowing ornaments. “What are you doing for the holidays?”

“Not much,” she answered, but he felt her hand tense in his. “Our family celebrates Yule, but we don’t give each other gifts or anything. We just spend some time together. It’s going to be a little more…awkward this year.”

“Come to think of it, I haven't seen her around much at all. She still hasn’t gotten over your last attempt?”

She shook her head. “She knows how to hold a grudge,” she grumbled. “Even though I was just trying to help her.”

“Well,” he said, trying to make his voice reassuring. “She’ll get over it once you figure it out. We’re getting that book soon. Maybe it’ll have your answer.”

“It had better, for all the trouble it’s been worth. What about you?” she asked. “What do you do for the holidays?”

“I usually spend it with the Weasleys,” he said. “It’s hectic but fun.”

“You don’t spend it with your family?” she asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “I mean…I know what happened to your parents, obviously, but I assumed…”

He paused, surprised to realize the Dursleys hadn’t entered into his thoughts since he’d heard they’d been killed. The thought made him frown.

“They were killed in the war,” he explained. “I’m all that’s left.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Because I never told you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “No need to be sorry about that. They were…pretty rotten. Hearing they had been killed didn’t quite have the…impact you might expect.”

“Then I’m sorry for that instead,” she said softly. “That must’ve been hard in a different way.”

He nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

“My father is all we have left,” Daphne said. “Our mother died giving birth to Astoria. Her curse took over while she was weak, and that was it.”

“Your mother had it too?”

She nodded. “She was an only child, so our father took on the Greengrass name when they married. “Since she was the only Greengrass of that generation, she had the curse, and it was passed on to Astoria with her death. She normally wouldn’t have lived so long, but she spent most of her life staying idle and resting to conserve energy.”

“What happens if the curse-bearer doesn’t have kids?” he asked, putting voice to a question he’d had since learning of the reason for her research.

“It still shows up in the next generation, when that happens, it always seems to be the first-born.”

“But what if the curse-bearer is an only child, and they don’t have kids?”

She smiled up at him. “It passes on still. I do not know what would happen if there were no cousins to take the curse, as it clearly has not happened yet since my family is not extinct.” She sighed and focused her gaze back ahead of them. “I gave up trying to break our family of the curse years ago. Without knowing how it came about, it’s basically impossible. Once I realized that, I just focused on trying to find a way to keep Astoria alive. That’s when I ran into the idea that it might be soul-based.”

“Might be?” he echoed. “You don’t actually know?”

“It is,” she corrected. “You misunderstand. Since finding out it might be soul-based, I did lots of research and rituals to determine if it is true. I’ve since found definitive evidence that it is.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “Well, at least we’re on the right track. We’ll get the book after the holidays and get to work.”

She nodded, the conversation clearly leaving her more exhausted than before. She leaned against him as they descended the stairs into the dungeons. “I’d like to see you over the holidays,” he said into the silence as he stopped in the middle of the hall.

“I’d like that,” she said, turning to face him, her hand still clutching his. “I’ll owl you. I expect you’ll be a welcome distraction.” She looked to the blank stone wall next to them and raised an eyebrow. “All that aside, how do you know where our common room is?”

“Oh, Ron and I used polyjuice to get in there in our second year. I’ll be honest, it’s pretty lousy compared to ours.”

“You-you what?”

“I’ll tell you all about my school adventures when we meet up for the holidays. Deal?”

She nodded and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. “It’s a promise.”

~~XxX~~

The Burrow stood as a testament to the festivity of the season. Almost every available outside surface was lined top to bottom with Christmas lights of different sizes and colors, twinkling madly in the cold December night. Harry could see the half dozen extension cords sticking out of the grass as they snaked their way over to a growling generator at the back of the house. Harry followed Ron through the tinsel-wrapped doorway, and into a stark contrast of quiet melancholy inside the unique home. Most of the Weasleys sat in chairs and sofas by a roaring fire, with Fleur perched on Bill’s lap unreasonably close to the flames. George sat by himself in a chair, a small mug clutched between his hands.

Ron leaned back to Harry as they passed through the kitchen. “It’s the first Christmas without Fred, so…”

“It is, it is,” Mrs. Weasley said, bustling forward out of the living room to take Harry’s winter cloak. “It’s tough, but we are all here to help each other through it, and that’s what counts.” She patted him on the arm and waved him into the living room, offering him her seat. “Can I get you anything? Cocoa, warm cider?”

“Cider please.”

A muted smattered greeting of ‘Happy Christmas’ met him as he entered the living room, with Mr. Weasley rising quickly to his feet. “It’s good to see you, Harry,” he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Harry stepped back out of earshot, pulling the older man along with him. “Listen, Mr. Weasley. I don’t really have to be here if you all want to-I mean…I’m sorry about Fr-”

“Rubbish, Harry. Total rubbish. What happened wasn’t your fault. Merlin himself couldn’t have saved everyone.” He stopped talking as Mrs. Weasley handed Harry his steaming mug of cider. “Also,” Mr. Weasley continued, reaching into a pocket and producing a small silver flask. “If we’ve fought shoulder to shoulder in a war, I think you can call me Arthur.” He offered Harry the flask, who gratefully added a splash of firewhisky to his drink.

The rest of Christmas Eve passed slowly, with stilted half-conversations and sighs carrying them into the late evening. Harry trudged up the stairs behind Ron, eventually sliding into Ron’s room. He stood for a moment in the doorway, an uncomfortable sense of deja-vu settling over him.

“Last time you were here was just before we set out on the hunt,” Ron said, tossing himself roughly onto the bottom bunk of his transfigured bed. “Must be a bit weird.”

“A bit,” Harry agreed, taking a step into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Things were very different then.”

  
  


A grunt of agreement was his answer and he climbed up into the top bunk. He laid his glasses on the bed next to his pillow and dropped down onto his back. The steady rumble of the generator from below their window drowned out the creaks and thuds of the odd house as he let his mind drift in an attempt to capture sleep. His thoughts wandered down to the living room, where he and Ron had left George and Arthur to their silent companionship. He rolled over onto his side.

“All right, mate?” he asked into the darkness.

The bed wobbled as Ron shifted, but no answer floated up right away. He’d nearly let it go when Ron finally spoke. “I can’t help but think about how we were gone last year. It was his last Christmas, and they would’ve thought we’d been captured or killed. Do you think last year was something like this?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. “Do you remember where we were?”

“Bulgaria, wasn’t it?”

“Somewhere up there I think. That Karkaroff lead really ate into our time. I thought it’d sunk us.”

“Yeah…”

Harry let the conversation drift away, and stared up into the blurry semi-darkness. He idly wondered if anyone else in the house had managed to fall asleep.

“What about you?” Ron’s voice made him jump, pulling him from the soft edges of sleep he hadn’t felt consuming him.

“What?”

“You doing okay?”

“I…think so. I’m getting better the longer we’re back, y’know?”

“Yeah. I do. Thanks for comin’.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be.”

Christmas came and went, remarkable in only its unenthusiastic passage. Gifts were exchanged and the meals were eaten. They talked, some cried, and as the red sun set below the pale horizon, all drank a toast to the fallen brother.


	13. Chapter 13

The days following Christmas were a blur of conversation and food. Light snow graced most nights, leaving the countryside a frozen expanse around the lively home. Bill and Fleur were the first to leave, citing a need to celebrate with the Delacours as well. They managed to extract a promise of a visit from Harry before departing, and he quickly agreed, figuring he owed them at least a ‘thank you’ for the nearby location of his successful first date. Percy and Audrey left next, their arms laden with leftover food that Bill had deftly left behind.

Two days before the new year, an owl landed outside Ron’s bedroom window, a small letter clutched in one talon. Harry opened the window and lifted the bird quickly inside. He took the letter from the owl, the familiar looping script written on the front drawing a smile to his face.

“Lucky,” Ron grumbled from the bed. “I haven’t even gotten a ‘Happy Christmas’ note from Tracey.”

“Did you send her one?” Harry asked, tearing open the envelope.

“Well…no.”

The letter was short and to the point, and while he had expected that of his often curt girlfriend, the words settled into a small knot of worry in his stomach.

_ Harry, _

_ I’m at Hogwarts. I’d very much like for you to come to see me. I know your time with the Weasleys is important, so I hope you’ll forgive my selfish request. I’ll be in the usual place. I look forward to seeing you. _

_ Daphne _

Harry frowned down at the letter in his hands, his reaction prompting Ron to sit up, concerned. “Everything okay?”

“I…don’t know,” Harry said, vanishing the letter and throwing his winter cloak over his shoulders. “I’m going to Hogwarts. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but it shouldn’t be too long. I’ll let you know if I need to stay.”

“Do you need help?” Ron was already on his feet.

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said, flashing his friend a quick reassuring smile. “Daphne asked me to come, and something about it makes me worry. Probably nothing though, you know how I am.”

Ron nodded, dropping back down onto the bed. “Well if she’s okay, would you ask her about Tracey? She said she’d owl me before Christmas, and that we could maybe meet up sometime around new years.”

“I dunno if I want to be a messenger so you can get laid,” Harry said with a laugh, before turning on the spot.

“I’d do it for you!” Ron’s shout tapered off as the squeezing darkness of apparition consumed him.

Hogsmeade appeared around him with a pop, and he cast a quick warming charm against the biting wind. His shoes crunched through the shin-deep snow as he made his way up to the castle. Once inside, he dried himself off and set off at a trot toward the library. The long halls of the school were silent save for the echoing thud of his footsteps. Only two people crossed his path, both quickly stepping out of his way as he swiftly approached the library.

He sped past Madam Pince’s protests and down the aisles to their spot. Daphne looked up in surprise as he rounded the corner. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail behind her neck, and she wore a plain grey shirt over a long skirt. Her blue eyes stared up at him, red-rimmed and wet. She blinked herself out of her stupor and quickly swiped at her eyes.

“You weren’t supposed to show up so fast,” she complained, her neck straining against a trembling frown. “I made my letter as normal as I could so you wouldn’t worry.”

“Something still seemed wrong…” he said, depositing his cloak on a chair.

She glared up at him, her threadbare control straining at the corners of her mouth. “So you came running?”

“Of course.”

He took a step back against the force of her against his chest. Her arms wrapped around his middle and held tight, as though the cold wind outside might blow her away. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. Her breath came in short controlled bursts, and she squeezed him tighter.

“I don’t mind if you cry, you know,” he said into her hair.

“ _ I do _ ,” she snapped.

Despite her harsh tone, she held him ever tighter until her breathing finally came down to normal.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away from his embrace.

“Don’t be.” He followed her lead and sat in one of the chairs, scooting it close enough that their knees could touch. “What happened?”

She let out a long breath, slowly tipping to the side until her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. “Is it okay if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Of course,” Harry answered. He’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if he forced someone to delve into the deep dark secrets just so he wouldn’t worry.

“Suffice to say Astoria and I had an argument after our father left for some emergency business,” she allowed, her fingers picking at the pleats of her long skirt.

“I thought those didn’t bother you much anymore.”

“This one was different.”

“I see.”

She was silent for a time before he heard a slight hitch in her breath. “Tracey was there too.”

“But Tracey knows about the curse. I feel like she’d be pretty good at helping deescalate an argument.”

“She was…not happy with me.”

“Tracey wasn’t?” Harry asked. “That’s…actually really hard to believe.”

“There was…a lot of shouting.” Her voice trembled as she spoke and her breath came in short gasps. “I’m so used to seeing the anger and hatred on Astoria’s face…but when Tracey turned and started shouting…she was so  _ angry _ .” 

He waited in silence as she collected herself, eventually offering him a quick, weak smile.

“Do you want me to kick her ass?” he asked, trying to grin. “I can do that for you.”

She shook her head.

“I really could though. I’ve kicked some pretty significant asses in my time.”

He finally elicited a more genuine smile, but it quickly fell away as she shook her head again.

“Well, what’s the point in having a utilitous boyfriend if you don’t use him?”

“I don’t want to use you,” she whispered down to her hands, which were folded in her lap.

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to hate me too.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Her lips drew into a thin line as she fought against the trembling of her chin. “I have a secret I’ve been keeping from you.”

He frowned a little, catching her downcast gaze. “Daphne, I have a lot of secrets.”

“This one…affects both of us,” she whispered.

“So does mine,” he retorted firmly. “Why do you think I can’t let you see that book? I trust you enough to tell you that we’re the ones who stole the library’s copy and destroyed it. I know at least part of what’s in there.”

She blinked owlishly at him, unshed tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “Will it…will it help the project?”

Harry shook his head slowly, and the slow collapse of the hope on her face shattered his heart.

“At least…not the parts I know about,” he tried. “There could be other parts that I don’t know about.”

“Did you see anything about soul magic?” she asked.

“I did. If the unedited version expands on that part…it won’t help. But there’s always a chance there’s more.”

She nodded, her dejected gaze falling back to her lap. “There’s no harm in finding out, I suppose.”

He jostled her knee with his. “Come on now. I’m an expert in hopeless situations, and we’re not there yet. We’ll get that book, find out what we need to, and find another. I’m sure I can pull a string or two that you probably couldn’t.”

“I bet that if you promised to go to work for him right away, the Minister would help me himself.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he said with a shrug. “But let’s keep that as a last resort.”

She nodded, wiping her thumbs at the corners of her eyes. “I only owled you because I wanted you near me, and somehow it became all…this.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere tonight, so let’s go to the kitchens and get something to eat, and then get to work.”

She let him lead her by the hand but stopped halfway down the aisle as the fierce winter wind was suddenly audible against the tall roof. “Harry, when did you…?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “When I told you it was okay to cry. I didn’t figure you wanted anybody to hear, so I put up a privacy charm.”

“That’s…very sweet.”

He grinned. “That’s what I’m here for. We need to make a stop at the owlery too. I need to let Ron and his family know I’ll be here for a while.”

~~XxX~~

The return to school could not have come quick enough. While he was still excited to resume the study sessions, and still had a few pre-prepared lesson plans to work through, it was the mornings that he was most looking forward to. Each morning was a chance for a reply from the bookseller, and a chance to finally be of significant help to someone he cared so much about. His enthusiasm was dulled, however, by Ron’s morning dilemma. Tracey had stopped joining them for breakfast, and as far as Harry could tell rarely showed up for meals at all. The few glimpses he caught of her were brief but worrisome. Whatever had affected Daphne so much, had clearly affected Tracey as well. Gone was her enthusiasm and in its place, he saw only exhaustion. Ron seemed to spend even more time with her than before outside of meals, often returning to the dorm after curfew, a frown resting on his face.

He only had to wait a week for a letter of significance to show, though it wasn’t the one he was waiting on. A ministry owl dropped a letter in front of him, his full name written in tight, block letters across the front. A copy of the Daily Prophet followed shortly after, dropped off by another, larger owl. He opened the letter first and quickly scanned the page.

_ Mr. Potter, _

_ I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet in person yet, but I’m sure you can understand, things around here are quite busy. To that end, I was hoping I might request your assistance. _

_ I have sent along a Daily Prophet for you to look through. I discovered that you did not have a subscription, and had likely not seen the news recently. I would be surprised if recent events were not being discussed at Hogwarts as well, but I’d rather be certain. _

_ To be as brief as possible, the Death Eater remnants have escalated their raids with the dissolution of the vigilante group. We have been able to keep the damage to a minimum, but they have begun to branch out from their standard information-gathering activities. We recently detained a Death Eater trying to sneak into the graveyard at Little Hangleton. A site which I’m sure you recall the importance of. _

_ I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight into what they were looking for. Should your information be of use, you will be properly compensated as any citizen would. Alternatively, I would encourage you to accept the generous offer Minister Shacklebolt has offered you within our office. It is the duty of the strong to protect the weak, and we would be able to make great strides in recovering the losses of our department with you by our side. _

_ I look forward to your favorable reply, _

_ Elizabeth Corduroy _

~~XxX~~

How it was he managed to get by Madam Pince in the foul temper he was in, he’d never know. The time it’d taken him to finish the letter and trek to the library had been a haze of red-tinted fury and guilt. With little conscious thought, he found Daphne in her back corner and dropped heavily down next to her.

“Hello to you too,” she said with a smile. “What’s got you in such a state?”

“It’s just ministry stuff,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I needed to cool my head, so I thought I’d come to spend some time with you. I don’t really need to talk about it, I just wanted to be nearby. I don’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s okay,” she said, tossing her quill onto the desk. “Even though I’m feeling up to studying, the words are starting to blend together. There’s only so many times you can read the same books and get new information out of them.” She turned to him, tossing her loose hair over her shoulder. “So go on. Out with it.”

“They’re just putting more pressure on me to join up early. They caught a Death Eater somewhere...problematic, and they asked me for information. In the very same letter, the new head of the D.M.L.E. tried to strong-arm me into the department. At least Kingsley’s guilt trips were subtle.”

“You should threaten them all, and I bet they’d back off,” she said with a grin. “I bet you can be properly scary when you’re riled up.”

“I’m sure I’d be able to get away with threatening the head of our government, as well as the head of law enforcement.”

“If anyone could…” She shrugged lightly. “I’ve said it before Harry, it’s not your fight anymore. You do need to stand up to them though. If you’re going to join up after school is finished, then let them know under no uncertain terms that you are not interested in starting sooner.”

He stared off, his eyes glazing as a thought that had plagued him for months surfaced in his mind. “Would it bother you if I was an Auror?”

“What?”

“You said you aren’t the type of person who’s willing to sit at home and wonder if someone is coming back,” he said, resisting the urge to pick at the seam of his trousers.

“How do you remember these things?” she asked, bewildered.

He shrugged self-consciously. “It’s been on my mind.”

“I…wouldn’t like it,” she said after some internal deliberation. “Uncertainty and worry have been my norm for almost half my life now, and I don’t want to add to that.”

“Would it…get in the way? Of us?”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she quickly sobered. “It’s like I said, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. I can’t make a decision like that right now because my priorities then might be different than they are now. Same for you.”

He digested her words, trying not to linger on the ‘if’. She was right. He knew better than anyone the difference a few months could make in someone's life. And if they weren’t able to help Astoria in time, it’d be a long while before Daphne would be ready to think about the future.

“But,” she said, her light tone piercing through his weighty thoughts. “There will always be time to worry about the future.” She gestured to the mess in front of her. “I’m living proof of that, but you managed to show me that the present certainly has its value too.”

“I have?” he asked.

The smile that accompanied her words pushed the future from his mind and filled it with thoughts of only her. “There is value in…distraction.”

He leaned forward, but was forestalled by two trembling fingers on his lips. She snatched them away.

“Maybe somewhere more…private, this time,” she said, nodding meaningfully towards Madam Pince’s desk, and the faint murmurs of other nearby students.

“I can put up a pri-”

“ _ Harry _ !” she interrupted, her eyes wide as she locked his gaze with her own. She dropped her voice to a nervous whisper. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and maybe there’s a room. Somewhere. You know…” She looked up at him helplessly and tried to smile. “ _ Please _ don’t make me say it out loud. Somewhere private. Special?”

The grin that spread across his face made her flush and he grabbed her by the hand, pulling her to her feet and down the aisles.

He tried not to run to the seventh floor.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a lime in this one. Doesn't get all the way to lemon though, but I figured a heads up might be nice.

Daphne’s laughing admonitions to slow down fell unheard as they climbed the stairs two at a time. Even with the smile her insinuations had planted firmly across his face, her quiet giggles were what pushed it up into a broad grin. She crossed her arms as they stopped in front of the blank wall, and he began the requisite pacing.

“As...flattering as such enthusiasm is, I expect a bit more patience...in there,” she said, her gaze flickering to the materializing door.

“I’ll take care of you,” he said, grabbing her hand. “You can trust me.”

The cavernous room had shifted from his usual study session configuration into the most ‘cozy’ configuration he could think of. A fire burned high in a stone hearth, its light flickering off frosty windows. Slow snow fell just outside the glass, the large flakes melting into rivulets upon contact. A four-poster bed sat opposite the fireplace which was thankfully quite a bit larger than the ones in the dorms. Their footsteps became quiet as they stepped onto one of the rugs surrounding the bed that covered the cold stone floor.

Daphne stopped just inside the doorway, and he turned to face her. She scanned the room with wide eyes, her mouth open in a small expression of surprise. He pushed his excitement back and squeezed her hand, bringing her gaze to his.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gesturing with his head over her shoulder. “Is it too much?”

She shook her head quickly, her hair cascading over her shoulders with the rapid motion. “It’s just...I don’t have any…” she faltered, vivid color rising to her cheeks. “You’re the experienced one here, remember?”

He laughed, pulling her towards the bed. She squeezed his hand and followed, dropping slowly down next to him. She jumped when his hand brushed strands of hair from her cheek, and he let his arm fall back to his side.

“Are you sure this is okay? You seem-”

“Yes!” she said, blushing at the near-shout. “I’m sure...I’m just really...well, nervous.”

“I promise you that even as excited as I am, I’m not going to go crazy or anything,” he said, affecting a grin that deepened her blush significantly. “It’s supposed to be fun for both of us.”

She scooted closer to him, the bed creaking beneath her movement. She placed his hand just above her knee and held it there.

“I’ve heard the first time can be...not great,” she said, staring down at his hand. “I’ve actually heard a lot over the years...mostly from Tracey.”

He nodded. “It can be bad...if we rush” He smiled awkwardly, and glanced down at his hand. He rubbed his thumb on her knee. “I er...got the ‘talk’ from my godfather. He had a lot of information.”

“That sounds...awkward.”

He laughed, Sirius’ red-faced explanations and hand gestures still vivid in his memory. “Oh, it was. We could barely look at each other for a few days after that, but it was a good thing. It taught me a lot.” He shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of...er...practical experience, but what I did have was...pretty good. I guess.”

She only nodded, chewing lightly on her bottom lip.

“We don’t have to, you know,” he said. “Usually you’re a bit more...active?”

She glared weakly at him, before giving a tentative smile. “Maybe sometimes I like being taken care of. Everything about this is new to me…so…”

“Do you want me to take the lead?” he asked, squeezing her knee.

She shivered, then nodded. “Go slow.”

His kiss was just that. It wasn’t frantic or heavy in the way some of their more intense diversions had been. Instead, it was soft. He felt her tense under the touch, eventually relaxing into him. She tilted her head to the side and deepened the kiss, her hand reaching up to rest gently on his cheek. He slid his hand from her knee up to her waist, slipping his fingers below the hem of her shirt to touch the cool skin resting beneath.

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t break the kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him hard against her, nodding slightly against his mouth. She shuddered as his hand traveled slowly up her side. A quiet, breathy moan escaped her as his hand slid over the pronounced ridges of her ribs and beneath her bra with a gentle squeeze. She removed her hands from him and began pulling at the buttons on her shirt while he made her task almost impossible by trailing kisses across her jaw to her ear. He pulled her lobe into his mouth and lightly pinched her nipple between his fingers, freezing her hands in place as she whimpered.

“ _You_ take the damn things off,” she breathed.

He felt her jump beneath his hands as she was exposed to the air, her shirt and bra vanished beneath his free hand. He pulled back to grin playfully and felt yet more of his inhibitions slipping away. She blushed beneath his attentions, the flush traveling down her neck and across her chest. He drank in the sight of her, of breasts he’d been caught staring at more often than he could count. He saw gooseflesh travel up her arms and down her body, pebbling her nipple beneath his hand, the other hardening in the cool air.

“Don’t just stare,” she said tugging on the front of his shirt. “Get rid of your own clothes while you’re at it.”

He followed her lead, pushing her backward with a gentle kiss until she laid on the bed beneath him, her golden hair splayed out behind her. He recaptured her lips and tried to vanish his shirt as well. He felt the spell slip away from him as she slid her tongue into his mouth, her hands roaming his back. He reluctantly removed his hand from her breast and quickly began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

She pulled back, a small smirk settling across her face. “So you can vanish my clothes but not your own?”

“I can’t vanish anything right now,” he said, slowly trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. “Too distracted.”

“Oh, I see-” her playful retort ended in a gasp as his mouth closed around her nipple while his hands were occupied. 

He tossed his shirt against the headboard and returned his hands to her body. She lifted her hips as his hands slid down her back. Her fingers flew to the button on the front of her trousers and slid them down ahead of his wandering hands. He raised his head from her breast to find a pair of light blue underwear to match her now-vanished bra. His hands slid under the band, cupping the firm flesh of her backside. His fingers sank into her cool skin as he returned his mouth to her chest.

He grinned, giving her nipple a quick flick of his tongue before looking up at her flushed expression.

“Your hands are so warm,” she breathed as he moved one to take the place his mouth had occupied.

“I must just be hot-blooded,” he said, kissing across the valley between her breasts. “Your body feels nice and cool against mine.”

She raised her head to gaze playfully down at him. He found the position unintentionally erotic as he peered up at her over the significant swell of her breasts. “If you make a joke about being with the Ice Queen, you will be spending the evening alone.”

He shook his head against her. “I wouldn’t. I care too much about you to make mean jokes. Especially right now.” His wandering free hand moved from her backside and across the bump of her hip, sliding slowly down her thigh.

“I know you do…” she said slowly. He trailed slow kisses down her stomach, and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Harry, we need to stop.”

He sat up, propping himself up with one hand, while the other rested on her side. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not,” she said, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

He frowned. “Then why-?” The anxious frown that furrowed her brow gave him pause. “What’s wrong?”

“Before we do this,” she said, reaching out and grabbing his shirt from the head of the bed. “I need to be honest with you. I care too much about you to hurt you, and there are consequences to what we’re about to do that I think would hurt you deeply.”

He peered at her, the fog of passion in his mind slowly parting for an uncomfortable sense of dread. “I know the contraceptive charm,” he tried to joke. A small smile flitted across her face as she slid her arms into the too-large sleeves of his shirt, donning it like thread-bare armor.

“So do I. It’s not that…”

He waited as patiently as he could, allowing her whatever time she needed to collect herself. Her fingers fumbled over the last button of his shirt, and she let her hands drop limply into her lap. Eyes that had held so much fire and passion now shone with anxious fear.

“I…need to tell you about the fight Tracey and I had over Christmas, and about what I did to Astoria.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly. “I don’t trust you if I force you to explain yourself all the time.”

“Would you quit being so noble for once in your damn life,” she said, a grimace taking place of what was meant to be a quick smile. “And maybe you shouldn’t…give your trust so easily.” He frowned, watching silently as she drew her legs up underneath her beneath the thin sheets. “Do you remember how I said I had promised her that I would stop trying to cure her after my last attempt?”

He nodded. “It’s no secret that you weren’t being truthful.”

She swallowed thickly and frowned. “Just listen. Please.” Her hands bunched in the sheets wrapping around her waist, her knuckles turning white from the strain. “I tricked her into an Unbreakable Vow,” she said. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “She’s not allowed to talk about what we did, and in return, I would no longer spend my life trying to cure her.”

Harry sat mutely as tears spilled down her face, leaking from eyes that pleaded with him to understand.

Unbidden, memories played in front of him; where exhausted blue eyes stared up at him instead of the wet fearful ones in front of him. Words and phrases. Wrong and evasive.

No lies.

Only ‘if’.

Thought and feeling fell away, leaving him hollow. She recoiled as he focused intently on her, searching her eyes, her face, her posture, anything that would put the cruel lie to her meaning.

Her gaze fell from his, taking with it the hope that he was wrong.

“I took the curse from her.”

He shook his head; an automatic denial, even as his memory worked traitorously to prove the truth of her words.

Her expression fell and she pulled her knees up to her chest. “Do you hate me now? For lying to you?”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “Even if I wanted to, what right would I have?”

“Every right,” she responded miserably. Her jaw clenched as she pushed against the tremor in her voice. “Even I know a relationship is meant to be built on trust. Whether or not you knew it, I’ve abused that trust the entire time we’ve been together.” Her bottom lip quivered even as she pushed her mouth into a thin line. She swiped at the wetness building at the corners of her eyes with the back of a hand. “I’d never have been able to put aside my work to date you if Astoria had been the one still in danger. I spent that week afterward recovering and pretending to work, while all I could think about was you, and what you said. I sat in that bed filled with regret that I only had limited time to experience the things I had denied myself.”

“That’s why you agreed to my invitation to Hogsmeade?” he said, his stomach turning at the memory of her hesitation after his suggestion. He felt ill.

She nodded, a hand twitching towards him, but she curled it back around her legs, pulling them tightly against herself. “If it helps, I had wanted to go with you before that, even if I wouldn’t have let myself.”

“In a weird way, it sorta does.” He blew a tremulous breath out, trying to grab onto even one thought in the whirlwind that was his mind.

Daphne was the one to break the growing silence. “What now?” she asked, dropping her forehead onto her knees.

“Are you expecting me to end our relationship?” he asked. A fragile nod was her answer. He stared intently at the protective ball she’d wrapped herself into, and felt the familiar fires of purpose begin to stir in him. “Well, I’m not.”

Her head shot up, her eyes wide and incredulous. “But why not?”

“Do you want me to?”

She shook her head frantically. “Of course not.”

He took a deep breath. “Then all that’s left is to figure out how we can cure you.”

A wry smile briefly twisted her lips. “What do you think we’ve been doing?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “I’d have approached things a little differently if I’d known it was you.”

She stared at him through probing blue eyes. “You would try harder for me than you would for my sister? Is Astoria’s life less important?”

His thoughts fumbled to a halt as he tried to backpedal without lying. “Astoria’s not…I don’t-” He paused and gathered himself. “No. But also yeah, kinda.”

“I have no idea how to feel about that,” she grumbled, dropping her chin onto her knees.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. We’ll keep working to figure out how to cure you.” He paused, half-formed ideas swirling around in his mind. “Could you…give it to someone else?”

“Like you?” she asked flatly. He nodded. “I could, but I won’t.”

“I might be able to force you to give it to me.”

“I wouldn’t tell you the ritual.”

“Maybe I’m a legilimens.”

“Then I would hate you for the rest of your very short life.”

He froze, his fragile humor shattering around him. “’Very?’”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said she was lying about how she felt. It…hurts.”

“Can we transfer it to someone else then?”

“Who would we transfer it to? Who _could_ we transfer it to?”

“Someone in Azkaban?” he ventured, grasping at anything that might be a lifeline from his growing despair.

“There have obviously been no tests, but I doubt the curse would latch on to someone whose soul is halfway inside a dementor like that. Besides, the recipient needs to be willing.”

“I could snatch one,” he found himself pleading. “We could at least try. We might be able to convince them to accept it.”

“You’d break into Azkaban for me?” She smiled weakly at his nod. “Of course you would.” She took in a deep breath and tried to smile at him. “All we can do is get that book, and hope that what's inside will help. You said yourself there may be more in there beyond what you know about.”

“That’s true,” he said, nodding slowly. “I hope so.”

She reached over and brushed his cheek with her hand. “Not right this minute, but in a little while…I wouldn’t mind picking up where we left off.”

He reached up and held onto her hand, leaning against it slightly before pulling it away. “But how could I?” he asked. “Knowing that exertion just shortens your life?” He shook his head. “I want to stay here with you tonight, but after that…I doubt I’ll be doing much besides waiting for that damned book.”

She scooted up the bed so her back was against the headboard, and patted the space next to her. He acquiesced, leaning heavily on the cool wood against his back. She lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders, then wrapped hers around his middle and laid her head against him.

“Then it sounds like we need to make good use of that book. My desire for you hasn’t lessened because of all this, and I imagine it will be even better if I don’t have to worry about such things…during.”

He squeezed her shoulders tight and let out a sigh. “I’m not helping you just for that.”

“Just?” she said, her faint smile peeking through her voice.

“Well…I mean…it’s a bonus.”

“I agree.”

~~XxX~~

“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?” Professor Martín asked, leaning against the front of her desk. “I can’t imagine you need any help with the classwork. You’re easily at the top of the class.”

“No, Professor,” he said, trying to wrangle the words necessary without giving away his newest secret. “I have a…project, that I need to work on. It’s going to take a lot of my attention, and I was wondering if you could cover the study sessions for a while.”

Her dark eyebrows show up in surprise. “I can’t say I was expecting that. The handful of times I dropped in to check on you gave the impression you were enjoying yourself.”

“I did,” he said quickly. “I do. I just…this is important, and I have to devote myself to it.”

Professor Martín slowly tapped her chin, adopting a faraway look. “Is it…animagus training?”

He shook head. “It’s private. I’m sorry.”

Her joking demeanor fell away, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “How long are you expecting this to take?”

“As long as it takes to fix it.” He stared at her, trying to will her to understand his need. It’d taken time for Daphne to convince him not to drop his classes as well, though he wasn’t completely on board with the idea. He didn’t really need NEWTs after all.

“Okay,” the Professor said slowly. “I’ll do it. I just ask that you keep me abreast of your progress, even if you can’t tell me what it’s about. Do you have lesson plans for the next sessions? I’d like to look them over.”

“Yes!” Harry said, shooting up from his chair. “I’ll go get them. Thank you!”

~~XxX~~

News of Harry’s abdication of the study group traveled fast, as news about him often did in Hogwarts. He’d heard speculation on his reasons, most of which seemed related to private time with his extremely attractive girlfriend. Which, he supposed they weren’t exactly wrong, but he doubted they meant quiet study time in the library. He was on his way to one such study session when Hermione stepped out from one of the aisles and dragged him into a secluded corner.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked, her wide brown eyes full of concern.

Her sudden unexpected question brought his focused brain to a grinding halt. “What? Nothing? I’m going to go help Daphne. I do it all the time.”

“That’s true, but not like this. Not until recently.” She frowned, and he could see her mind toiling away behind her steady gaze. “What happened?”

“What do you mean ‘what happened?’” he asked. The back corner pulled on him with an almost tangible force. Every moment away was a moment lost. He turned to step away. “I need to get to work.”

A tentative hand gripped his shoulder as he turned, and he paused. “Harry. I haven’t seen you like this since last year. It’s like when our whole world was the hunt.” She gently spun him back around. “If you need our help, you only have to ask.”

A burst of affection drew a faint smile to his lips and he nodded slowly. “I know. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

She squinted at him for a moment and let her hand drop. “Good.”

He plastered what he hoped was a reassuring smile across his face and left to join Daphne. She looked up as he sat down, a crooked grin tugging at one side of her mouth. “Did Hermione find you?”

  
“Yeah,” he said absently, pulling a copy of ‘ _Restoration and Rejuvenation_ ’ closer and flipping it open to his bookmark. The conversation with his friend slid easily from his mind as he fell deep into the detailed, if a bit dry, book. He distantly noted Daphne’s attempts to keep his spirits up as he picked up yet another thick tome, and began leafing through it. The singular purpose of the hunt settled over him, even aware of it as he was, he could not slow his attempt at ascension of the mountain of impossibility that loomed tall in front of them.


	15. Chapter 15

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry growled, tossing the offending letter down on the desk.

“So you keep saying,” Daphne said from her seat next to him. “You probably shouldn’t though. It’d probably make it hard to get what we need from him.”

“It’s almost February. In what world is that ‘soon after the new year?’”

She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The effect was immediate, and he felt himself relax a little. “I’m sure we’ve got the time. I’m stronger than I look. The coughing isn’t so bad today, and I feel pretty good if you wanted to go down to Hogsmeade. You’ve spent almost every waking hour here either in class or in the library.”

He shook his head. “No. I’d like to, but we can’t. We need to prepare for this.” He turned to her. “What was your plan going to be?”

She sighed, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s a little strange that I’m the one that keeps asking you to go out.”

“I’m aware of the irony,” he grumbled. “But I’m going to lose it if we don’t make some progress. Will you help me come up with a plan for how to approach this?”

She nodded reluctantly, scooting her chair closer so she could lean against him as she talked. “For people like that, you need more than one. It’s a complicated dance, and something tells me you’re going to have a tough time with it.”

~~XxX~~

From the outside, Barnabus Canon’s house was a squat little thing. Dingy windows pockmarked the shoddy brickwork along the front, one of which tilted to the side off its track, a sinuous crack running the length of the pane. Large unattended trees dotted the small yard, their branches reaching protectively over the hovel, casting it into further shadow.

Harry held his letter up to the moonlight, quadruple checking that he was in the right place. He sighed and pocketed the parchment, checking that his wand was still in its holster in the same motion. The temptation to brandish his wand simmered just below the surface of his affected calm. The tail end of January was hardly what he would call ‘soon after the new year,’ but if he wanted the book, he had to jump through the hoops.

Daphne’s fierce instructions floated through his thoughts as he pushed open an old gate that announced his arrival with a squeal of rusty metal. 

_ ‘Peddlers of dark artifacts are easily spooked, and notoriously cagey. To be honest, I’d almost expect a trap, had I not done the research into this man myself. Play his game, and get the book. It might take a couple of meetings for him to feel comfortable with you, but that’s something we’ll just have to deal with.’ _

Calm and cordial. He could do that. He’d do whatever he had to in order to get that book. There were no plans to save Daphne without the information it might hold inside. He knocked on the door and the moment his knuckles touched the warped wood, he felt a tugging behind his navel and vanished.

He rolled as he landed, a silent shield charm in place as his wand tracked the area around him. The room was dim, but he could see three targets to his right.

A Death Eater trap.

Three stunners spit from his wand, each impacting their intended target square on the chest. A cacophony of metal clanging stopped him short as his attackers collapsed into noisy piles.

“Impressive,” someone said from the nearby darkness. The voice floated through the sudden silence; a tone of filth masquerading as human. Through his rising anger, Harry already wished for a bath. “Not a single word, and you managed to protect yourself and destroy my early medieval armor. One of those sets belonged to Merlin’s successor, you know. It was quite expensive.”

“ _ Lumos _ ,” Harry called out. A ball of light at the tip of his wand cut through the shadows to reveal Barnabus Canon, standing behind a large mahogany desk.

“Come now, surely someone that reacts so spectacularly doesn’t need to verbalize a simple light spell.” A burgundy vest that might once have been trimmed with gold strained against a portly belly as Barnabus sat down behind the desk. He gestured to a seat across the desk from himself. “Mr. Potter, I am Barnabus Canon. Please, join me. I will raise the lights.” He produced the shortest wand Harry had ever seen, barely longer than one of his fingers. Short or not, a quick wave brought small flames into lanterns hanging around the perimeter of the room. All four walls were lined with bookshelves, packed to the brim with books and scrolls. The lantern light flickered dully off the pieces of armor scattered across the hardwood floor. The oil from the lamps lent a vague burning scent to the must and mildew that filled the small room.

“I can understand the need for privacy,” Harry said, slowly taking a seat and dispelling his light. “But I do not appreciate being portkeyed by surprise. Last time that happened, a Dark Lord rose from the dead.”

“Indeed,” the man said, a humorless smile pulling at dirty mustaches. “I’m sure you can imagine my surprise to receive a letter from the Boy-Who-Lived himself. And inquiring after such an interesting book no less.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Everybody ‘has their reasons,’” Barnabus said with a laugh. “I put myself to thinking…why would someone like you, be wanting a book like this.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, suddenly glad for the excuse to have his wand in hand. “Then I got to wondering, maybe Mister Potter isn’t the only one who wants what’s in that book. I seem to recall an article about lost little cultists sniffing around their Master’s old haunts. Now, what on earth could they be looking for?”

“What’s your price?” Harry asked, the end of his road obnoxiously clear.

“Oh, it’s not as fun if you don’t play along,” the peddler said, leaning heavily back in his chair with a disappointed frown. “I would gather this is likely your first transaction with such a…high value item.”

“It is, though I have done my research,” Harry warned.

“Not thoroughly enough, or you’d have known that the portkey is standard practice. Even with a new Minister, the travel office is remarkably friendly to the right visitors.”

“I don’t particularly care. I’m here for the book. I would like to buy it from you.”

“Very well,” the man said, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on the desk. “I’ll cut to the chase. I don’t know you. I set up this meeting to see if you were who you said you were, among other things.” He gestured to the now-empty armor stand. “That wasn’t a part of the test, but it was effective. And expensive.”

Harry nodded, taking a silent deep breath to keep himself calm. He’d dealt with worse than simple condescension. “I understand the need to vet your clients, but I am on a rather strict timetable, and would prefer to purchase the book tonight. Even if it means paying extra.”

“Even with the Black fortune you don’t have enough money to buy it from me during an introductory meeting,” Barnabus growled. “I do things this way for a reason, and some uppity ‘hero’ is hardly going to make me change my mind. That book will sell, whether it's to you or not, it will sell. I will get my money eventually.”

“A trade then,” he countered, shifting to Daphne’s second suggestion.

The gleam in the man’s beady brown eye sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He felt his hackles raise and gripped his wand.

“There is a rumor,” the peddler said slowly, one hand moving to twist an end of his considerable mustache. “A rumor of a rumor, really. Ramblings from the handful of Voldemort’s elite before they were kissed. Half-heard conversations of half-heard conversations. That sort of thing.”

“Get to the point,” Harry said, schooling his face to keep his wince from showing. Daphne had been right in her guess that he’d have trouble keeping his temper on a leash.

“I can think of one thing that would allow me to part with that book today,” Barnabus said with a wide, predatory grin. “Those rumors say that you may be in possession of the Wand of Destiny. I will trade you the book for the wand.”

“I’ve heard the rumors too. I never possessed the Hallows,” Harry lied easily.

“They say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named used a different wand during that battle.”

“Voldemort used a lot of wands after our first duel,” Harry said icily.

“Quite,” Barnabus sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Regardless, absent the wand, we will be doing things in the usual manner. We will meet again in a week after any reserves of polyjuice will have expired. At that next meeting, I will bring the book, and you may determine its authenticity. We will discuss a price, and at the third meeting, you will bring me the letter of promise for the amount we determined.” He grinned. Teeth yellow from tobacco use peeked through the long hairs of his mustache. “You will have your book in about a month, I should say. Gringotts does like to take their time when it comes to confirming letters of promise in the amount you’ll be withdrawing.”

“I don’t have a month,” Harry said, his foot bouncing against the floor. “I wasn’t exaggerating my time limit.” Though Daphne still acted as though she felt fine, leaning into their uncertain time-frame still sat sour in his stomach. He could still feel her prominent bones under his hands. Maybe they had far more than a month. ‘Maybe’ turned his blood to ice.

“You do. Or you don’t have your book. I can swear to you that I won’t sell it to another while we are in negotiations if you would like.” The man picked up his stubby wand and held out his hand. “I don’t even require any promises from you. Pretty generous, no?”

“I don’t have a month,” he repeated as calmly as he could manage. His wand dug into his hand as he gripped his hand tightly around it to keep from shaking. “I’m sure you have a number in mind. I will pay double.”

Beady eyes widened, then narrowed. “A piece of friendly advice Mr. Potter. Appearing desperate will make you seem unpredictable. Unpredictability is liability.” He rose slowly from his seat and straightened his vest with a tug. “Due to your services, and your  _ generous _ offer, I will overlook your little…faux pas.”

“We’re not done,” Harry said, rising to his feet as well. “I’m not leaving without that book. I’d like to pay you for it.” He produced a folded piece of paper from a pocket and placed it on the desk. He unfolded it with his empty hand and spun it so Barnabus could read it. “You’ll notice the amount isn’t filled in, but it’s still been approved.” He tapped an empty line near the bottom with his finger. “Being an ‘uppity hero’ means that a lot of people owe you favors.”

“Tempting though your offer is,” the other man said, pushing the paper away. “I do business a certain way so that I may continue to do business. You are swiftly talking yourself out of this sale with your over-eager ploys. A collector of rarities such as myself knows that the wrong sale can put you swiftly out of business, sometimes in rather deadly ways.” He reached into a pocket and produced a small gold watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I will send you a letter should I determine I would like to continue our convers-” His mouth froze mid-word, his whole body going unnaturally rigid.

Harry took a step forward until his thighs almost bumped the edge of the desk. “The body-bind curse is a bit more difficult to learn non-verbally,” he said, fixing his gaze on the man’s unblinking eyes. “But only a little.” He raised his wand and placed it tip-down on the paper, a small fire igniting beneath it. In a flash, it consumed the letter of promise, and he brushed the ashes to the ground with a swipe of his hand. He reached forward and plucked the watch from Barnabus’s hand. “I’m going to unbind you now, and if I so much as see a twitch from you, we’ll be having a very different conversation.” With a theatrical wave of his wand, he canceled the body-bind. 

“I’ve dealt with the likes of you before,” Barnabus spat. “Self-righteous, thinking whatever you’re doing is all that matters.” He jabbed a meaty finger at Harry. “I’ve dealt the highest-ranked Death Eaters. Lucius came to me when he needed special items for the cause. I dealt with Voldemort himself back when he was still pretending to be Tom Riddle. You think you can do worse to me than they did?” Spittle caught in his mustache as he spat furiously on the ground. “The Dark Lord ripped through my occlumency like I was a child and stole what he needed, after torturing me. You mean to tell me you can do worse than they did?” 

Harry lifted his wand, and slowly pushed the man’s finger to the side with it. “I did possess the Elder Wand,” he said quietly, ignoring the flash of interest that broke through Barnabus’ fury. “If you want to get specific, I still do.”

Barnabus dropped his arm to the side, the tension slowly leaving his posture. “Well then, we can-”

“I killed Lucius,” Harry interrupted quietly, locking gazes with the other man. “And I killed Voldemort. And I did it with  _ this _ wand.”

Beady eyes darted to his wand, then back up to meet Harry’s unwavering gaze. “You’re going to have a hard time convincing me you’ve done the sorts of things the Dark Lord and his followers did. Special wand or no.”

“ _ I don’t need a wand. _ ”

With a flick of his wrist, he returned the wand to its holster and focused on Barnabus’ legs, locking them together. The man spluttered furiously as he teetered on the brink of falling. Harry focused and lifted, noting distantly that the levitation spell wasn’t nearly as difficult as he remembered. He levitated the bound man over the desk, taking a step back so he could lower him down until they would be face to face. 

He stared in the peddler's beady eyes, stoking the roaring fury inside him. His muscles twitched, ready for the battle that wasn’t coming. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he clenched his fists to keep from twitching.

“I destroyed Voldemort’s Horcruxes,” he growled, leaning close to Barnabus’, the smell of stinking fear leaking from his pores. “And then I killed him. I have an inkling you know what it takes to destroy one. We had to destroy seven. We had tools in the beginning. Special items created out of unique circumstances, but they were taken from us.” He pulled his wand from his sleeve again and pointed it at the man’s protuberant middle. “What spell do you know that can destroy a Horcrux?”

Barnabus stared wide-eyed down at Harry’s wand. “F-f-fiendfyre.”

Harry nodded, twisting his wand and burning a small hole in front of the burgundy vest. “I haven’t got a handle on casting that one without a wand, yet.”

“I-if you burn me, you burn the book!”

“What makes you think that’s not my goal?”

“J-just a h-hunch,” the man said, his tongue darting out to whet pallid lips. “L-let’s talk. I’ll sell.”

Harry released the bind on Barnabus’ legs and let him drop back to the floor. He kept his wand trained on the man, who began unbuttoning the buttons of his vest. He slid it off with difficulty, then turned it inside out, exposing a pocket sewn into the back. He plunged his arm in, sinking it down to the shoulder. When he removed his hand, the opening expanded to accommodate a ratty leather-bound book.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the book at Harry. “Check it over.”

Harry took it and flipped through the first pages. There was no glossary, and it seemed to be just a collection of notes and drawings.

“Horcruxes are near the back, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Barnabus grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt.

Harry turned to the back as instructed and scanned the pages. He schooled his features as he read, flipping through the rather involved methodology listed inside. “I’m surprised Voldemort didn’t come for this,” he said, snapping the book shut.

“Why would he have needed it? He came looking for a ring or something, but I didn’t have it.” He paused for a moment. “Oh. He wanted it for…” He looked queasy.

“That particular Horcrux was the one that killed Dumbledore,” Harry said, setting the book down on the desk.

“Bit too uptight for my tastes,” Barnabus said, the ghost of his salesman’s smile returning to his features. “So, let’s talk price.”

Harry nodded and lifted his wand. “ _ Obliviate _ .”

~~XxX~~

Daphne stared blankly at him, silence rebounding through the Room of Requirement.

“I thought you’d be a tad more excited,” he grumbled, lowering the book from his triumphant display.

“He just…sold it to you?” she asked, her bewildered gaze following the book. “Just like that?”

“Er…not exactly,” he hedged. “I was…persuasive.” A single eyebrow raised in a question. “It’s like I said. I can pull a few strings you can’t. I do have an Order of Merlin First Class, after all.”

“Fine,” she said. “Don’t tell me.” She nodded towards the book. “Does it have the information you were expecting?”

His hand dropped to the side, and he nodded. “It’s mostly there. It’s more of a rundown than I expected, but I haven’t quite been able to figure out how we’re going to…adapt it to your situation. I sent Dobby to check out the Black library to see if there’s anything even tangentially related.”

“But it’s soul magic?”

“It is.”

“What kind?”

“Uh…the bad kind.”

Daphne cursed and dropped down onto the sofa he had requested of the room. “I guess we’ll have to keep looking, won’t we?”

“You work on that,” he said. “I’ll go through this a bit more, and see if there’s even a small thing that might help. Maybe it’ll be one of those things where a random word gives me a brilliant idea.”

“It’d probably be better than your other ‘brilliant idea,’” she retorted, patting the spot next to her. He sat down and set the book on the floor by his feet.

“I’m pretty healthy,” he argued, though he knew the futility. “I’d probably last a while.”

“I’m not giving you the curse, Harry,” she said, scooting close to him and leaning her head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her, and she sighed. “What?”

“While I’ve been watching you work so hard for me, I’ve been thinking. What do you want to do after all this?”

“After we break that curse, you mean?” He asked, receiving a tentative nod in response. “Well, after school I’d join up with the Aurors, go through training, then probably be put to work taking down those Death Eaters if they haven’t managed it already.”

“You know they won’t have."

“Yeah…I know.”

Her hand moved to his thigh and gave it a hard pinch. “But I didn’t ask you what your plan was. I asked what you want to do.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an Auror,” he answered with a shrug that lifted her head slightly. “Besides, they need me.”

“ _ Humor me _ .”

He stared out into the empty room, its blank stone walls and floors providing little by way of feedback.

“I…” He hesitated, feeling unaccountably like a child who’d been caught with his hand in the sweets jar. “I suppose…I miss teaching the D.A. and the study group. Teaching might be nice.”

“You’re good at it,” she said. She scooted to the side with a groan, laid her head down in his lap, and smiled up at him. “You could be Headmaster one day I bet.”

“Headmaster Potter,” he said, a slow smile creeping across his face. “It would be  _ awfully _ fun to act as barmy as Dumbledore did sometimes. I could award house points to Gryffindor all the time too.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, frowning up at him. “That was completely unfair. We won fair and square.”

“I mean…I did keep the Philosopher’s stone from Voldemort, who would’ve become a true immortal, so…”

“Well…yes, I suppose. But we didn’t know that.”

“I’ll be sure to explain my unfair awards.”

She stared up at him in silence for a time, her eyes darting back and forth, searching his.

“I don’t think you want to be an Auror at all.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to be one either.”

“I…what? What do you mean? They need my skills to help protect people. I’ve been through things even Mad-Eye hadn’t.”

“Ron and Hermione have been through the same things,” she persisted, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. “I don’t hear you telling them what they’re obligated to do after school.”

“They’ve been through enough,” he said. “What we went through together…they were only along because of me. They’ve done enough.”

“But you haven’t?” He frowned down at her, at a loss for how to follow. “You don’t have to make a decision right now,” she said, her countenance softening. “As I said, I’ve been thinking it over. I’ve spent my whole life afraid of Astoria dying. If I make it through this, I don’t want to do that to myself again. I wouldn’t be able to handle wondering if the person I loved would be coming home every night. Especially when that person has a knack for finding danger.”

How she wasn’t deafened by the sudden thud of his heart, he’d never know. He gaped down at her, barely registering the blush that crept across her cheeks.

“Don’t stare at me like I’ve grown another head,” she said, twisting a fistful of hair through her fingers. “I know what I said.”

“I-” he was stopped by two fingers of her free hand across his lips.

“I will not be best pleased if you say it back simply because I said it.”

He smiled beneath her fingers and gave them a soft kiss. She let her hand drop.

“I’ve known for a while, but I wanted you to figure it out in your own time. I know this sort of thing is…new for you.”

She sat up and stared at him, frowning. “You should’ve said something!”

He shrugged. “Can you really blame me for wanting it to be a sweet moment? Saying it randomly in the library as I’m sneaking glances at you while you work isn’t exactly memorable.”

“It would’ve been. And you aren’t as sneaky as you think.”

“I’m not that bad,” he countered. She hadn’t caught him every time.

She smiled. “No, but you could certainly be better. How many times have you caught me ogling you?”

“None?”

“Which is strange, considering I do it all the time.”

He grinned over at her and she smiled back, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, laughing as she started, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“You’re so  _ earnest _ ,” she complained, patting her cheeks against the heat building inside them.

“I’m not all that sorry.”

“Yes. Well,” her mouth worked silently for a moment before she visibly composed herself. “I love you too, Harry.”

~~XxX~~

The delicate script on the page began to shift, the letters transforming into unintelligible gibberish. Harry rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes, letting his glasses clatter to the table. A sudden and intense wave of frustration spiked through him, and he shoved himself back from the table and rose to his feet.

No matter how many days he spent poring over Magick Moste Evile, it refused to yield even the slightest hint of another answer. In a fit of powerless frustration, he’d sent Dobby on a more specific task in the Black library, and as the guilt faded from the edges of his vision, the small elf’s task was beginning to appear to be his only, horrible answer.

With a shout of naked fury, he banished the chair from beside him, where it broke unhelpfully apart against the far wall. His mind rebelled against his better judgment, reminding him of the plan he’d already developed, the letters he’d already written, just in case. It reminded him of how easy it would be, especially when the alternative grew more and more unbearable by the day.

What was one more sacrifice?

“Dobby!”

The house-elf popped into existence next to him, his wide round eyes shining with excitement. “Master Potter will be pleased! Dobby has found the books Master Potter has requested!”

“Thanks, Dobby,” he said. Gesturing vaguely over to the table, where the offending book still sat open and mockingly undisturbed. “Will you take that book with you, please? There are two letters underneath. Take those as well.”

“Does Master Potter want Dobby to start collecting-?”

“No, Dobby, not yet,” he said quickly, habit pushing him to shush the elf, no matter how warded against eavesdropping he’d made the room of requirement. “I’ll er…let you know. If we need it.”

“Yes, Master Potter.” With a snap of his fingers, Dobby vanished, taking the book on the table with him.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, his fingers pushing his glasses up to his forehead. How many days had he been awake? He contemplated simply asking the room to provide him a bed, but Hermione’s concerned expression flashed through his vision. Better to at least let himself be seen. He wouldn’t put it past his friends to organize and lead a manhunt if he vanished for too long.

He stepped through the door to the hall, and almost directly into the fuming form of Professor Martín.

“Professor?” he asked, stumbling to the side to avoid a collision. Her eyes narrowed with irritation, and her mouth drew into a thin line reminiscent of their Headmistress. He tried to push away the haze of exhaustion. “Did my friends send you to find me?”

“I’m not in the habit of running errands for my students,” she answered. Her expression softened to a modicum less frustrated. “Should they have?”

“No, no. Sorry.” He tried to wave away his assumption. “Did you need something from me?”

“I was trying to test out a new configuration for tomorrow’s lesson,” she explained, nodding to where the door had vanished behind him. “I was unaware you couldn’t interact with it while someone was inside.”

“Ah. Sorry about that,” he said, trying his best to smile apologetically. “I forgot to mention it.”

“At least I am now aware,” she said, fixing him with a critical eye. “It would appear that your personal project is not agreeing with you, Mr. Potter. You look exhausted.”

“I am,” he said, resisting the urge to slump against the cool wall behind him. “I can handle it...I’m just...running out of time.”

She frowned at him. “Would it truly be so disastrous if you don’t finish on time? A lot of students can really burn themselves out pushing themselves too hard.”

“I can’t...talk about it,” he answered slowly. “But yes. It would be catastrophic.”

She stared in surprise at his response. “You aren’t saving the world again, are you?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. Though to be honest, that was a bit more straightforward. At least then I knew what I was supposed to do, even if I didn’t know exactly how. And there was no question as to whether I  _ should _ or not.”

She reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder, letting it drop when he jumped a little in surprise. “I don’t think I need to tell you, of all people, that things aren’t always as straightforward as they seem. I said as much in our first lesson. Even a simple cutting charm can be used for nefarious purposes when wielded a certain way. People are much the same.”

“I’m viscerally aware.” He clamped his mouth furiously shut. He knew better than to talk about the war when he was in a mood.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said, a wan smile flitting across her face. “Though, if I may be honest and candid...I wouldn’t have wished the responsibility to fall on your shoulders, but in the end, you saved us. You saved everyone because of what you did. So in a way, I’m glad it was you. Would another have had the fortitude to do what needed doing?”

Harry could only shrug.

She smiled awkwardly. “I suppose what I’m trying to say, is that if you can do all that, you can handle whatever it is being thrown at you now. Don’t underestimate yourself. Many students do, and none have the impressive resume to point to like you do.” She nodded towards the stairs behind her. “As always, my office is open to you, but we are nearing curfew. You should get back to Gryffindor Tower.”

“Goodnight Professor. Thanks.”

~~XxX~~

“Potter!”

The ferocity behind his name made him spin on the spot, his body tensing in reaction. No matter that he was in the middle of a packed hall at Hogwarts, he heard the danger in the single word. To his surprise, Tracey was storming up behind him, her face a mask of pained and desperate fury. She drug him by the arm into an empty classroom with a strength her small frame shouldn’t possess.

“Tracey what-?”

“How are you going to fix it?” She snapped, her red-rimmed eyes pinning him to the spot. “She finally told me that you know, so I want to hear how you’re going to fix her.”

“Oh, you’re talking to her again?” he shot back. “I was under the impression you and Astoria had given up on her.”

“Of course not! But after what she did…” she trailed off, the fire behind her eyes dimming.

His only stoked higher. “You don’t have to understand her to support her. Instead, you ran from her.”

“I was angry! And scared….I’ve had a long time to come to grips with Astoria dying. This is…”

“So you’d throw away the time you have left because you’re scared of what will come after you have none?”

Her mouth opened in retort, but nothing emerged. She shut it again and stared down at her feet. “I know. I already feel terrible, but that’s not why I came.”

“Why did you come then?” he asked. “I’m busy trying to help her.”

“I know you are,” she said, the edges of her lips trembling. “That’s why I set the two of you up originally. I thought you’d be good for her. Even though I thought you might be helping her recover after Astoria…”

“You set us-?” He paused, not allowing his momentary curiosity to distract from his focus. “What’s your point? Why’d you need to talk to me?”

“I need you to hurry.” Any of the angry fire that had remained inside her had turned to weak tendrils of smoke. She deflated, and her red eyes began to spill more tears. “She won’t tell you, because she loves you too damn much and doesn’t want you to worry. But she’s not...We were arguing again and she-” Her breath hitched, and she swiped away the tears. “You need to hurry.”

Hogwarts melted away around him as his fears were given life in front of him. Not enough time. He could hear his heart thundering in his chest, the peak of the impossible mountain looming overhead. For all his work, he’d only found a single, treacherous path to the summit where Daphne waited far too patiently for him.

“I have a plan,” he said, keenly aware of the crack in his voice. “It’s not a...good plan. But I’ve got one.”

Tracey brightened a little, though he could see her fighting against the surge of hope the shone in her features. “Something is better than nothing. Can I help?”

“Keep her busy,” he said, stepping around her and to the door. “Ron and Hermione too. And if something happens...you know...tell her I love her.”

“Be careful,” she said, relief warring violently with concern on her features. “Whatever it is you're planning, nobody wants to lose you either.”

“If I can sacrifice myself to destroy Voldemort,” he said, more to the door he slowly pulled open, than to the room's other occupant. “I can do this too.”


	16. Chapter 16

His stomach turned violently as he unstoppered the vial of viscous silver liquid. A pure, sweet scent suffused the large room. The dim candlelight surrounding his ritual circle cast long, flickering shadows across the empty living room of Grimmauld Place. He scanned the runes carved into each blood-red candle, and to the powdered mix of monkshood and bone.

“M-maybe we shouldn’t, Master Potter.” Dobby’s pleading voice made him jump and curse, the liquid in his hand almost spilling from its glass confines.

“Are you sure we did everything right?” he asked instead. “I don’t think we’ll get another shot.”

Dobby nodded, pulling his floppy ears down to anxiously tug on them. “Dobby read every book and prepared things just as instructed. Dobby knows Master Potter be doing the right thing…” The elf trailed off, giving his ears a hard tug. “Be careful, Master Potter, sir.”

He steeled himself and upended the vial over the golden medallion resting opposite him in the circle. He poured in a line, connecting his medal to the single pile of mixed powder. He set the container outside the circle and grabbed the small needle that lay by his knee. He shivered, goosebumps running down his back and arms, spreading across his bare body. Despite the warm air inside Grimmauld Place, a chill crept through him. He pricked the end of his finger and set the needle down outside the circle as well.

He held his fingertip up close to his face, marveling at the tiny drop of blood that welled up. Such a big step with such a small thing.

He held his hand over the pile in the middle and watched as the blood fell.

The books had been vague on the experience, so he’d prepared himself as best he could. His mental preparations vanished against the onslaught that wracked his body as the candles flared, and the silver liquid glowed an ethereal black. He was being torn in every direction at once; like being splinched a thousand times over. He tried to breathe, tried to collapse, but his body stayed rigid, even his jaw refusing him the mercy of a scream.

The candles melted all at once. Small pockets of flame rode across the sliding wax sliding to the center pile, igniting it. The acrid smoke burned his nostrils as he inhaled and drifted purposefully to the medal with the exhale. It settled across the award, spilling over its embossed decoration. With the rushing sound of a hurricane, the medallion consumed everything in the ritual circle. The ash, smoke, and flame flew through the air as it was pulled, twisting around an empty core of air. All at once, the sound stopped, and the room was plunged into darkness.

~~XxX~~

The house was modest, though Harry noted it was far more welcoming than the last house he’d approached. Where Canon’s fake house had sinister, unattended trees, Cedric’s had flowers, and short, waist-high bushes. Even in the winter, when Harry’s breath floated through the chill evening air, the flowers bloomed vibrant and free. Harry couldn’t help but grin as he approached. He really did need to visit more often. Like the man himself, Cedric’s house welcomed its visitors with open arms and a smile.

Harry knocked on the door to be met with a muffled shout of, “Be right there!”

After a moment of locks coming undone, the door swung open to reveal Cedric. His thick brown hair was wild and long, though Harry could spot a handful of premature grays sprinkles throughout the mass. A broad grin welcomed Harry inside as the door was closed behind him.

“I got your letter!” Cedric said, leading Harry through the entryway into the sitting room. “Have you eaten? Do you want tea?”

“Tea would be great,” Harry said, walking up to the fireplace and warming his hands.

Cedric hurried from the room, returning a few moments later with a cup in each hand. He handed one to Harry, then sat on the nearby sofa across from the hearth. Harry took a sip, then blew out a quick breath, and set the cup on the mantle.

“Just brewed it,” Cedric said with a laugh. “It’s going to be a bit hot.”

Harry nodded and pointed up to the center of the mantle, where Cedric’s Second Class Order of Merlin hung suspended in the air, revolving slowly in front of a large clock. “I’m not sure I’d have expected you to display it quite like that.”

Cedric chuckled, his ears flushing pink. “It was Cho’s idea. Her spellwork too. She gets annoyed when I downplay my involvement, so I think she did it to make a point.”

“She’s got one too,” Harry pointed out. “Does she hang hers in her living room as well?”

“Ah…no,” Cedric said, the blush creeping from his ears and across his face. “She hangs it in our bedroom. She says she likes to see it when she wakes up as a reminder that this is what we were fighting for.”

“Our?” Harry echoed with a grin.

Cedric shrugged. “You know her birthday was in November. I asked her to move in officially around Christmas, since she’s of age now. She comes home on weekends.” He eyed Harry. “Speaking of which, don’t you have class as well?”

“A little hooky never killed anyone,” Harry said with a wave of his hand. “Congratulations, by the way. I won’t tease you too mercilessly.”

“Tease away,” Cedric said, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. “Living together is incredible. Especially after everything that happened. To wake up next to someone who you once thought you might never see again…it’s pretty special.”

“Yeah…” Harry turned his gaze back to the medal, watching quietly as it spun.

“So what’s going on?” Cedric said into the suddenly melancholic silence. “I’ve been badgering you to visit me for months, and all of a sudden you send Dobby along with a letter saying you’ll be showing up ‘soon?’”

Harry grabbed his cup of tea, and took another small drink, thankful to find it slightly less scalding than before.

“Harry?”

“I don’t want to be an Auror,” he blurted, taking another long drink to recover himself.

“That’s…fine,” Cedric said, staring up in confusion from his seat. “I don’t think anybody would blame you.”

“I would,” he said, draining the last of his tea. “So there’s something I need to handle before I give it up.”

Cedric frowned and the lines around his eyes hardened. Gone were the developing laugh lines, replaced by the man that had led the Order of the Phoenix for the last push of the war. “Those Death Eaters aren’t your problem. They aren’t my problem anymore either.”

“But you’ve still got surveillance on them, don’t you?”

Cedric nodded slowly, setting his cup down on the small table by the arm of the sofa. “I do.”

“Are they still at Malfoy Manor?”

“Harry-”

“Are they?”

Cedric nodded and rose to his feet. “I don’t think you should do this for a few reasons, not the least of which being it’s  _ not your problem _ . Not to mention the danger.”

“Are they still holding prisoners?” Harry asked, ignoring his friend’s protest.

“What? No.” Cedric swiped a hand through his messy hair and frowned. “I didn’t want to tell you this. The Ministry made a deal. They agreed to force us to shut down in order to get the hostages released. They’d already wanted to do it, so it was a win-win for them.” He shrugged. “Plus, we get to save people one last time before we dissolved the Order, so it’s not so bad.”

A small laugh escaped Harry. “You  _ would _ look at it that way.”

“So would you, once upon a time.” Cedric took a step forward concern etched across his frown. “What’s going on, Harry? It sounds like you want to take on the Death Eaters yourself, and even if you could, how do you plan to get through the wards around Malfoy Manor.”

“By calling in one of the strangest debts I’m owed,” Harry said, downing the last of his drink. He glanced up at the clock. “It’s just about time. I’m sorry, Cedric.”

A red flash impacted Cedric in the stomach. Harry stepped forward to catch him before he hit the ground and carried him over to the sofa. He laid him down in the most comfortable position he could manage, then rose, smiling sadly down at the stunned man.

“You should’ve been up there with me,” he said, turning to stare at the wholly inadequate Second Class medal. “You’re the best of all of us.”

He let out a sigh and left the house, making sure to lock up as he closed the door. He patted his pocket, satisfied when he felt the heavy medallion bounce against his leg.

With a quiet pop, he disapparated.

~~XxX~~

Snow sunk into his shoes as he appeared at the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Dim orange light filtered through the glass fronts of the dubious shops lining the street. People in heavy winter cloaks roamed the streets like wraiths, darting from shop to shop, their identity hidden beneath their large hoods. One such person stepped out from a shadowed doorway and approached him.

“You’re late,” a voice said from the darkness of the hood. His sharp aristocratic tone had dulled in his time away, as had much of the fire behind his complaints.

“I’m not,” Harry replied. “Let’s go. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can leave this place for good.”

With a grunt, Draco nodded and Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and with a twist and a crack, they vanished.

A hill loomed in front of them when they reappeared near to Malfoy Manor. Only the tops of the gaudy spires were visible in the near distance. Harry’s head swiveled, marking a distinct lack of footprints in the new-fallen snow.

“What are we doing so far away,” he hissed. “I told you we need to get  _ through _ the wards, not admire them from afar.”

“And _ I _ assumed you didn’t want to get captured the moment we appeared,” Draco shot back, pulling back his hood to expose a face that had come to resemble his father’s far more than Harry found comfortable. “I don’t think I get to call my debt satisfied if I drop you into danger.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, trudging up the steep hill. He waved his wand over his winter cloak and transfigured it to match the white landscape. “I don’t need to be in there long. Once we’re through the wards, you can back out and leave.”

“ _ That’s _ all you want in exchange for protecting us from my father?” Draco asked, shifting his cloak to match.

“He wasn’t a particularly challenging opponent at that point,” Harry said, grunting as his foot slipped from under him. “He’d been driven twice as mad as Bellatrix and was only half as competent.”

“I remember,” Draco snarled. “What are you doing here anyway? There’s nothing left that belonged to the Dark Lord in there. Only some Death Eaters that don’t realize they’ve lost.”

“Just taking care of some things,” Harry answered as they crested the hill. The manor loomed dark in the weak moonlight. An intricate iron fence surrounded the perimeter, with a figure patrolling back and forth on the other side.

“The wards start a half-dozen meters before the fence,” Draco said, pointing to a gnarled old tree that stood apart from a nearby copse. “One of the anchors is beneath that tree. It runs parallel to the fence from there. The house is the main connection point.”

“I don’t care about the anchors,” Harry lied, dropping back below the visibility line of the hill and beginning to circle around to an unattended side. “I just need through the wards, then you can leave.”

“Whatever you say, Potter,” Draco said with a sigh, pulling his hood up against a frigid rising wind. They walked in silence to an unattended corner of the fence. Harry stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “The wards are just ahead. Hold onto me, and I’ll walk us through,” he whispered.

Harry complied, allowing himself to be led forward. He turned to Malfoy once they reached the fence. “You did it. Consider your debt paid. Now get out of here.”

Malfoy glanced up at the imposing manor and tutted irritably. “Are you sure you don’t need help? I’m not opposed to seeing this place taken down by whatever it is you’re here to do.”

“If I did,” Harry said, deftly swiping his wand across the iron bars, cutting a hole to slip through. “I wouldn’t have asked you. Get going, or get stunned. Your choice. Head back over the hills before you apparate away though. I don’t want them alerted before I’m ready.”

“Suit yourself,” Malfoy said, shaking his head. He slunk back and out of the wards. Harry quickly lost sight of him against the matching white backdrop and turned back to his task. He slid his invisibility cloak from a pocket inside his normal one and slung it over his shoulders.

He crept through the hole he’d made, levitating and repairing the fence with another quick wave of his wand. He stuck his wand through the bars and covered their footprints, returning the snow to its pristine state. Slow, deliberate steps kept his movement quiet, while he cleared his footprints before they were exposed from under his cloak. He slunk up to the side of the manor, where the overhanging roof had prevented any accumulation.

He took a deep breath, the calm of purpose settling his thundering heart. He had a mission, and he aimed to get it done. Only two more things to do and his war would finally come to an end. He found the guard pacing the side opposite his entry point. A deep trench was worn into the snow from the guard's repetitive course. When the guard's back was turned, Harry moved to the end of the trench and waited for the Death Eater to return. As the man drew close, Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. Rookwood's sunken features stared out from under the hood, tired eyes staring through Harry as he approached. As Rookwood turned, Harry produced his wand and pointed it at the man.

“ _ Imperio. _ ”

The Death Eater stiffened and Harry stepped into the snow-trench behind the man. “Keep walking like normal and answer my questions as quietly as you can.” Rookwood took a step forward, resuming his patrol. “Why are you only guarding this side?”

“Ministry’s watching us,” the man whispered. “They switch out every now and then, but they’re easy enough to spot. Bunch of Auror recruits I’d bet.”

“On our next round, I want you to continue your patrol around the side of the building, and stop as soon as we’re on the other side.”

Rookwood obeyed, leading Harry back around to where he had entered the grounds.

“How many Death Eaters are inside?” Harry asked once they’d stopped.

“Fourteen.”

“Besides yourself, is that all of them?”

“There are a few in Azkaban still, but we’re all that’s left on the outside.”

“What are you looking for?”

“We’re trying to find what it was that brought the Dark Lord back the first time. He’s the greatest wizard that ever lived. We’re sure he’s got more than one way to come back. We’re going to find it.”

Harry nodded, appraising the Death Eater in front of him. “What would you say if I told you your search is fruitless? That there’s nothing left to bring Voldemort back, and you’re all going to die tonight?”

The Death Eater stared at him, puzzled. “You may have defeated the Dark Lord, but all of us together could take you down.”

“Probably,” Harry said, a snarl lifting his lip. “Luckily for me, I ran into the perfect one. I don’t need any of the others. Stand back against the fence.”

Rookwood moved back, watching impassively as Harry’s hand extended from his cloak. He let out a slow breath, releasing the grip he had on his hatred of the people inside the manor. People who had tortured innocents, had killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, and whose blind devotion to a madman had stolen his life from him. He concentrated through the rage, focusing it to a point at the tip of his wand.

Sparks spewed from the tip, and the wood bucked in his hand. Roiling furious flames spewed from the tip, climbing the walls of the manor as the beasts took form. The fire spread across the outside in moments, the inferno devouring the house as the beasts turned inward. The crack of stone and the splitting of wood rent the silent air as the fiends let out a fiery roar.

Rage burned inside of him in equal measure, dancing across his eyes in tempo with the flames that licked the night sky as Malfoy Manor burned. Shouts of panic and screams of pain began to issue from the shattered windows. He pushed harder, willing the firestorm to consume everything in its path.

With the sound of a thousand shattering panes of glass, the manor collapsed, bringing the wards down along with it. Harry sliced his wand through the air, dispelling the stampeding fire beasts. Ordinary fire remained, burning white-hot with the remnants of the Death Eaters and their final haven. Harry turned to Rookwood and placed a hand on his shoulder.

With an angry crack, they disapparated.

~~XxX~~

Harry appeared in the living room at Grimmauld Place along with Rookwood, who stood passively as Harry removed his invisibility cloak.

“Dobby!”

The elf popped into existence between Harry and Rookwood, his protuberant eyes shifting nervously between the two.

“Master Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said, his eyes wide. “Maybe Dobby could help Master Potter with another plan?”

Harry tried to modulate his anger, not wanting to snap at his one confidant. “There’s no going back now,” he said, fixing Rookwood with a furious glare. “No better than the one who killed Fred, and hurt my family. You know what to do.”

“Yes, Master Potter,” Dobby said quietly, vanishing with a snap, taking the invisibility cloak along with him.

Harry divulged himself of his winter cloak, tossing it to the ground. Rookwood’s placid gaze followed the motion, then looked back to Harry, awaiting instruction. Harry stuck his free hand in his pocket, fingering the warm metal of his Order of Merlin.

With a twist of his wand and a snarl, he released the Death Eater from his control.

“Wha-” Rookwood exclaimed, blinking frantically as the daze of the Imperious cleared from his mind. “P-potter?” he stammered, spinning on the spot as he tried to apparate away. He raised his wand to Harry, who didn’t move. “I don’t know why you released me, but it was a m-mistake.” The tip of the man’s wand trembled in the air.

“I wasn’t sure I could do it unless I stared into those murderous eyes of yours,” Harry growled, taking a single threatening step forward. He stoked the furious hatred he’d denied for so long, a vision of Fred’s blank stare filling his vision.

He lifted his wand and thrust it towards the Death Eater’s chest.

“ _ Avada Kedavra _ .”

A jet of vivid green light struck Rookwood, lifting the man from his feet. He hung in the air for a moment that stretched for hours. Features that had twisted into a rage as he’d dueled Fred now captured only fear. His brown eyes were wide and dull. He fell limply to the ground with a muffled thud.

A sharp snap suffused Harry’s being, and he collapsed, succumbing to blinding white agony.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor self-harm warning. It's not detailed, nor is it necessarily 'self-harm' as you'd expect, but it's enough that I figured it worth a warning.

Harry blinked himself awake. Consciousness returned slowly, feeling creeping into his limbs as he fought his way out of deep sleep. He took a slow breath and the distinct tang of antiseptic burned his nostrils. He scanned the blurry, nondescript room to find a table at his bedside. He gingerly patted the tabletop for his glasses.

“So sorry, Mr. Potter,” a voice said, making him jump and scramble for his wand. He found himself disarmed and tried to calm down. He was in a hospital, not Azkaban. The voice materialized as an aging medi-witch who held his glasses out to him. She was tall, with dark but graying hair. Dark brown eyes stared down at him in concern…and not judgment. He let out a long sigh. He owed Dobby big time.

“What’s going on?” he asked, clutching his throat in surprise as he found his voice hoarse and painful.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” she said, lifting a glass of water from the table and handing it to him. “Your elf brought you in and asked that you be treated. He said he didn’t know what happened to you.” She scanned a clipboard she held loosely in one hand. “As best we can tell, you were exhausted, and exhibited unconscious twitching similar to victims of the Cruciatus curse.” She tapped her neck with a finger. “You also had throat damage from screaming. Were you tortured, Mr. Potter?”

Harry shook his head, then paused. “I have been before,” he answered truthfully, taking another long drink of water. “But not recently, no.”

“Do you know what happened?”

He again shook his head, preparing the lie he’d crafted just in case someone found him after he’d finished, but before he was ready. “My scar acts up every now and again. It happened a lot more often when Voldemort was alive.”

“I see.” The doctor made a note on the clipboard, and let her arm drop to the side. “Well, personally I’d recommend taking it easy for a few days, but as far as I can tell, you don’t have any lasting damage.” She nodded towards the door to his room. “You have two visitors waiting for you.”

“Who are they?” he asked, following her gesture with a nervous gaze.

“Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

“Nobody else?”

She shook her head. “Whenever you’re ready to leave, stop by the front desk to let us know, that way we can get the room ready for the next patient.” He nodded, a frown tugging at his lips. “Shall I send them in?”

  
  


“Tell them to wait a few minutes, but then yeah,” he said, spotting his clothes folded neatly on a chair. “I’d like to get dressed first.”

“Will do. Take care of yourself, Mr. Potter.” She left without any further comment, closing the door gently behind her. He slid out of bed and padded over to his clothes. He quickly got dressed and strapped his holster back to his arm, sliding his wand inside. He’d just sat back down on the edge of his bed to slip on his shoes when the door flung open.

Ron stormed inside ahead of Hermione. Where Ron’s face was a volatile mix of hurt and anger, she simply looked concerned.

“You alright?” Ron asked, his angry clipped tone at odds with his question.

“Er…yeah,” Harry answered.

“Good. Now that’s over with, you know you’re a bastard sometimes, right? Why didn’t you have us come with you to finish off the Death Eaters? Malfoy Manor burning down was all over the Prophet this morning.”

“I didn’t really need much help,” he answered truthfully. “Besides, you guys have done enough.”

“So have you,” said Hermione. “You don’t think we’d rather make sure you were safe? After everything we’ve been through together?”

“I knew you would,” he said. “But I needed to do it on my own.”

“It’s just like the hunt all over again,” Ron said, tossing his hands up in the air in frustration.

“It’s not,” Harry replied doggedly. “That was destroying…those things. This was cleanup. I did it with one spell.”

Ron grumbled but seemed to acquiesce. Hermione, however, fixed him with a deep frown. “That’s not exactly…sporting though, is it?”

“You want me to be sporting against a bunch of Death Eaters?” he asked, bewildered. “Do you remember the sorts of things we did to take down Death Eaters that were chasing us? How we’d raid their camps?”

“I’d rather not,” she whispered, looking down to the ground. “But fiendfyre, Harry?”

“It’s the most thorough thing I could do. Besides, there are other spells that would be far more painful to find yourself at the business end of.”

“Be that as it may,” she said, returning her gaze to his. “Even you can’t deny that it was reckless and unnecessary. Professor McGonagall is beside herself, and I expect Kingsley will want a word or two. If you weren’t who you are, Harry, you might have been facing time in Azkaban.”

“Reckless maybe,” he allowed. “Not unnecessary. I’ll handle them both.” He looked between them. “Where’s Daphne?”

“Back at school,” Ron said with a grimace. “When she saw the paper she had a proper fit, really tore you a new one. Ended up in the hospital wing for coughing up blood. Pomfrey wouldn’t let her leave, and Tracey said you’d know what’s going on.”

“Right.” Harry stood up and strode towards the door.

“I know you’re worried,” Ron said, offering a halfhearted smile. “So get going so you can check on her. We can wait a bit on your apology.”

Hermione nodded quick agreement. “But this time, let us know if we can help.”

“I will,” he promised and sped out the door.

~~XxX~~

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t apparate to Hogwarts right away. Instead, he made a detour back to Grimmauld Place. He arrived to find the living room just as clean as it ever was, not a single sign of what had happened remained.

“Dobby!”

The air disgorged the wailing elf with a pop. Dobby rushed forward and latched on to Harry’s leg.

“Dobby was so worried!” He cried, his large eyes full of massive tears. “Master Potter collapsed and started screaming and wouldn’t wake up. Dobby did was Dobby was told to do, and got rid of-” He clamped his mouth suddenly shut, and looked up with wide wet eyes.

“Good job, Dobby,” Harry said crouching down. "I owe you one.”

“Master Potter saved Dobby,” the elf said, running a thin arm under his nose. “Even if the orders seem…confusing. Dobby knows that Master Potter be doing the right thing.”

“I appreciate your faith in me,” Harry said, smiling warmly at the house-elf. “Did you hide the Order of Merlin?” Dobby nodded, his large ears flapping with the motion. “Can I have it please?”

With a twirl of his small hand, Dobby produced the medal from the air and placed it in Harry’s waiting hand. It was warm and vibrated eagerly in his grip.

“I might need you one more time here soon, Dobby,” Harry said, pocketing his award. “After that, we should be finished.”

“Dobby is happy to serve!”

“See you soon." He stood up, patted his pocket once more to be sure, turned on the spot, and vanished.

~~XxX~~

He sped through the halls of Hogwarts at a dead run, hoping his hasty disillusionment charm was enough to keep anyone from letting the Headmistress know that he’d returned. His feet drummed a rapid rhythm as he ran, visions of Daphne coughing blood spurring him faster. The small, rational part of him knew that it was only a small step forward for the curse and not the crisis he was afraid it was. The rest of him pushed on even harder, not letting up until he stood outside the hospital wing, panting.

He took only a bare moment to catch his breath and reapply his charm before slipping through the door as silently as he could. To his relief, an argument was taking place that covered his entrance spectacularly. His heart soared when he saw Daphne sitting up in bed, arguing with Madam Pomfrey that she was fine, and would continue to be fine, whether she stayed for tests or not.

With a firm shake of her head, the Matron stormed off.

Harry slipped over to Daphne’s bedside, waiting until Madam Pomfrey was out of sight before revealing himself. He canceled the charm and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t freak out.”

She jumped violently when he appeared, but managed to only let a small squeak of surprise issue from her throat. The shock was instantly replaced by fury.

“ _What in the absolute_ **_hell_ ** _did you think you were doing_?” she whispered angrily. She reached out, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him into a desperate kiss.

He wanted nothing more than to relax into her, to let his anxious energy finally dissipate, but he couldn’t. Not yet. “I can explain,” he whispered after pulling back.

“You can explain why you went and burned down Malfoy Manor _by yourself_?!”

He nodded, his hands bobbing in a placating gesture. “You’re the only one I can explain it to,” he said. “And it’ll be a lot harder to do if I’m noticed. Do you feel well enough to sneak out of the hospital wing?”

“Let’s go,” she replied, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

He cast a quick disillusionment charm over the both of them. He grabbed her hand and led the way to the seventh floor. Once inside the cozy version of the room of requirement, he sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to join him.

“Not happening,” she said flatly, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

He balked. “Not for…not for _that_.”

“I know,” she said, glowering down at him from a few paces away. “Now that the surprise at seeing you has worn off, I’m able to see how unbelievably hurt I am that you’d do something so needlessly reckless like that. I _told_ you that I can’t handle even the idea of you not coming back to me. And yet you go to do what? Finish what you started?”

“No. That’s not why I did it. Please Daphne, just listen,” he pleaded, again patting the bed next to him. “For a little bit. I’ve got a lot to tell you about.”

He saw the edges of her anger soften, though she still glared at him through narrowed eyes. She sighed, then dropped down on the bed next to him, her arms still crossed. “Go on then.”

“Have you come across Horcruxes in your research?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably as he spoke. She shook her head mutely, her furious frown slowly relaxing. “That was the soul magic described in that book. They are little soul containers that can tether someone to life, even when their body dies.”

She sat unmoving for a moment before her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So last year…?”

“Voldemort had seven. We had to find and destroy them.”

She recoiled, taking in a sharp breath. “Was one of those in the manor?”

“Would you forget about the manor for a second,” he pleaded. “We’ll get to it, I promise.”

She frowned. “Why are you telling me about this now, when you’ve been so adamant about nobody knowing? I can understand why you three kept it a secret.”

He leaned forward, nervous excitement propelling his idea forth in a torrent of rapid speech. “I was thinking that if a Horcrux is a piece of a soul, and your curse is soul-based, then we could transfer the curse to a Horcrux.”

She blinked and stared blankly for a moment. “Is it…an actual soul, or an approximation of a soul?”

“It’s part of a soul,” he answered. “You sort of…cut a piece off and stuff it in something.”

“Simple as that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I doubt the information would be so rare and well guarded if all you needed were some scissors.” She tapped her chin with her finger. “From what I can tell, it’s the soul that powers the curse. It won’t latch onto anything inanimate…” She shrugged. “It…might work. But there’s no way to know for sure unless we were able to try. Did your book give the rundown on how to create one of these Horcruxes?”

“Mostly.”

“And what did it say?” she prompted. “It’s no use to us if we can’t create one. Not to mention the kind of cost a ritual like that is likely to incur.”

“I’d rather not say,” he said. “Besides, we don’t have to worry about making one.”

“Then how are we going to try-”

She froze mid-sentence, her mouth still fumbling with the words as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his Order of Merlin. It hummed in his hand, an oddly discordant sound that made his head ache.

“ _Harry_ ,” she breathed, her unblinking gaze held fast by the medallion in his hand. “What did you have to do?”

“I’d rather not say,” he repeated, reluctantly letting the medal slide off his hand and onto the bed between them. Her wide blue eyes followed it down, then snapped back up to his.

“I’ve seen the prices some rituals can require,” she said, her voice rising to a panic. “There is some unbelievably dark magic out there, and soul magic can be some of the worst of it!”

“I know,” he said simply.

“Why won’t you tell me?” She scooted away from the offending object. Her face paled. “Was it a sacrifice?”

He grimaced. “In a way.”

She settled a little, some of her anxiety fleeing her features. “Magic and rituals can be somewhat esoteric in their meanings. Sacrifice doesn’t always mean in the literal sense.” She gave him a faint smile. “So you did have to sacrifice somebody's firstborn?”

“A firstbo- _I didn’t kill a baby_!” He slumped. “Do you think I’d kill a baby?”

She scooted closer so she could cup his chin in her hand and pull his face up to look at hers. “No. I don’t. But you do have a remarkable inability to modulate yourself when it comes to helping me.” He let her hand drop and sat back. “I just don’t want the reason I live to be because of some innocent sacrifice. That’s often the case with the darker rituals.”

He let his shoulders sag in defeat. “It was Rookwood,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to tell you because I had to kill someone...with the killing curse.”

“The Death Eater?” she asked.

He nodded.

She stared down at the medal. “ _That_ is Rookwood?”

He shook his head slowly. “That’s not how it works.” He reached out and tapped the hard golden surface. “It’s mine.”

Daphne was silent as she digested his admission and she wrung her hands slowly in her lap.

He’d nearly spoken up to try and make some sort of deal when she finally rose from the bed and took the few steps so she was standing in front of him. She slid easily into his lap, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. “If this works…I will spend a very long time showing you that I understand what this cost you.”

“And if it doesn’t?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her middle and breathing in the scent of her.

She gave a weak chuckle and pulled back. “Then I’ll be dead soon, and it’ll be your problem to deal with.”

Pricks of angry wet fury formed at the corners of his eyes, but they weren’t given the chance to fall as she pulled him close. Their lips met, and he wanted nothing more than to never stop. She pulled back and looked down at the medallion. “I’ll need quite a few things to prepare the ritual.”

“I thought you might. Dobby!” The elf popped into existence next to them, the tips of his ears barely coming up to the top of the bed. “Dobby, get Daphne whatever she needs.”

~~XxX~~

Harry paced nervously outside the runic circles. He’d been barred from pointing out anything that looked like it might be out of place, or not ground quite fine enough. His final warning had come when he offered to place the runes for her. A gravelly wet cough had interrupted her admonition, its effect enhanced by a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. She swiped it away with the back of a hand before returning to her work.

With a clack, Daphne dropped the last rune into place and turned her head to glare at him. “I will absolutely send you out of here if you don’t stop it.” She smiled. “Why don’t you enjoy the fact that you get to see me naked?” She looked down at her bare skin, and grimaced at her gaunt form.

“I’ll enjoy it more after this is over with,” he grumbled, reluctantly halting his quick steps. He chewed anxiously on the end of his thumb.

She shook her head and returned to her work, her loose hair brushing against her bare back, stopping just above the swell of her backside. She placed the final runestone in the place where the two circles connected. She turned to him, her eyes searching his for a moment before she spoke. “You’re not going to like this part.”

He glanced over to the knife laying on the ground in front of her and nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you want to leave?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Then you’re going to have to trust me. I’ve done this before, remember? The blood acts as the transference medium. Since this is magic to connect to the soul, it must be lifeblood. The ritual magic will sustain me during, then restore me after it’s complete. I’ll be exhausted when it’s finished, but I won’t die. You can’t interfere.”

“ _My_ ritual only needed a drop.”

She shrugged. “Your ritual doesn’t mend the soul when it’s complete,” she said with a sad smile.

He nodded and ground his teeth. “Let’s get it over with.”

She took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly through her mouth. With deliberate precision, she reached to the knife in front of her. She held it tight in her hand and looked over to him. “You can turn away if you want,” she said. 

He shook his head, sure that if he moved his body an inch further, he would dive into the circle the moment the knife split her skin.

She turned wordlessly back to the knife and held her wrist over the runes. With a quick jolt of motion, blood dropped onto the runes below her arm.

Harry locked his legs in response, almost falling over for the automatic twitch his body gave towards Daphne.

The runes in the center began to glow an ethereal blue, each one passing the glow to the next like a flame. Faster and faster the runes lit up until the two at the opposite ends shone bright, and they began to rise. Beneath the floating circles, the blood moved slowly across the stones, creeping towards the medallion. It’s golden surface sat dull in the shining blue light, only casting flickering shadows as the floating runes began to rotate.

Daphne sat cross-legged, immobile as the lethargic red puddle continued its crawl towards its goal. She drew in a sudden shuddering breath at the moment the blood reached up and touched the golden surface.

A keening wail filled the chamber, the reverberations painful in his head. His hand flew in habit to his scar, before shifting to his ears, though neither motion dulled the knifing pain through his mind. A splitting sound joined the extraplanar scream; the cacophony of a mountainside breaking away beneath an avalanche. A final gargantuan crack shook the room, and the runes fell to the ground, inert.

The Order of Merlin lay on the floor opposite Daphne’s limp form, split down the middle like jagged forks of lightning.

He rushed forward, lifting her bodily from the ground and carrying her to the bed. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. 

“How do you feel?” he asked, pleading with every remaining part of his being that it was over.

“I feel good,” she answered, her smile trembling as he let out a delighted laugh that mingled with a sob. “I feel _really_ good.”

He leaned in and kissed her, the salt of his tears mingling as their lips met. He drew back and wiped at his eyes, savoring the sight of her vibrant blue eyes staring up at him.

A mischievous smile quirked the corner of her lips. “You did it, Harry. You’re a hero.”

He cast a glance back to the award lying spent on the floor. He shrugged. “I’m nobody’s hero. Not anymore.”

  
“You’re _my_ hero.”


	18. Epilogue

Harry trudged through the quiet halls of Hogwarts, Daphne’s sleeping form held carefully in his arms. Even though they’d finally done what they had set out to do, anxiety still rose in him like bile at the angular bones that dug into his skin. He pushed the feeling back, trying to take solace in her perfect sleeping features. No matter the vitality the curse had stolen from her, she wasn’t quite emaciated, and thanks to both of them, she would make a full recovery. Even with the heartening thought, he still picked up the pace, tracing a familiar path back to the Hospital wing. He slowed as he arrived, taking care to push the quieter door carefully open with his foot. It swung open, its familiar creak a welcoming death-knell ahead of the bustling fury that was Madam Pomfrey.

“I’ve never been-How you could-In all…” The matrons face shifted through a confusing mix of apoplectic rage, and pure relief. She decided to lean into the anger, and pointed a shaking finger at Harry, then over to a bed. “Her. Over there.”

Harry followed instructions, gently carrying Daphne over to the bed he’d absconded with her what felt like days ago. He set her gingerly on the bed, her pallid, sleeping face unchanged for the jostling motion. He swiped a finger across her forehead, pushing some of her golden hair away from where it rested across her eyes.

“Sit down,” Madam Pomfrey grunted as she shouldered her way between him and Daphne. She pulled the large heavy sleeves of her sleeping-robe up and pointed with one exposed finger over to a chair across the room. “Over there somewhere. I need to check her over, and then decide whether or not I’m going to push the Headmistress to expel you.”

Harry dropped into a nearby chair, even the threat of expulsion sliding off the exhausted joy that still radiated through him.

“I didn’t take her for any-” he tried, to be cut off by a sharp glare from the matron.

“I’d like to think I know you well enough to know that you didn’t remove Miss Greengrass from the infirmary against her will, or for untoward reasons.” He sat up a little straighter but paused as her glare deepened. “I do, however, know that you took her from here without so much as a note, nod, or comment.” Her mouth opened to continue her tirade, but she snapped it shut and returned to her slow wand movements across Daphne’s prone form.

“I know that she’s not well,” Harry said into the silence. “That’s why I came and got her. We figured out how to cure her.”

“Yes, I can see that.” She rested her hands on the side of the bed and bowed her head a moment. A slow sigh escaped her, and she straightened, pointing her wand to the back of the hospital wing. With a quick incantation and a flick of her wrist, a dozen small bottles of various potions soared through the air to land on Daphne’s bedside table. She methodically lifted each one, checking their contents with a quick shake. Satisfied, she covered Daphne with another quick wave of her wand and strode over to Harry. “Just because I’m overjoyed to find one of my students to no longer be standing at Death’s door, does not mean I am happy with you Mr. Potter.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

“I’m sure you do. I am to assume there is some reason that whatever she had was not brought to my attention, as there is also a reason as to why the cure could not be performed here. In the hospital wing. Where such things tend to happen most often?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered, stuffing as much apology into the affirmation as he could.

Rather than answer, she studied him for a long while, her practiced eyes probing far deeper than he found comfortable. As the urge to fidget beneath her stare became near to unbearable, she finally relented and shook her head. “I have never been so saddened, nor overjoyed to have a student graduate from my care Mr. Potter. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you have been a handful of the strangest kind during your stay at this school. You have chosen to end your time here by both stealing, and then curing, one of my patients…”

“There’s still a few months left.” He watched as the joke fell dead against the cobblestone floor.

“If you come in here with so much as a cough I will pull every favor Minerva has ever owed me to have you expelled. Understood?” Harry swallowed and nodded, shifting his gaze properly down to his feet. He almost jumped in surprise when her stern voice came far softer and much more tired. “You’ve shown such remarkable strength of character over the years, despite your rather obvious distaste for the rules, that I believe you had no choice. I can’t imagine what it was that made you act as you did, but I am glad to see that Miss Greengrass is recovering.”

“Me too,” he said, shifting his gaze over to where Daphne slept, her chest slowly rising and falling beneath the thick winter sheets.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you would stick around even if I told you not to, so you may stay. Try to get some sleep yourself. You look exhausted.” Without so much as a goodnight, Madam Pomfrey bustled off to her quarters.

The hours wandered by as Harry sat in his chair, staring at the marvel that was his girlfriend. No matter how many times he reminded himself they’d been successful, he found his thoughts trying to return to their anxious state, every pause between her breaths an agony of uncertainty. He focused on her breathing, and her peaceful expression, letting the evening slip by as he did his best to absorb the reality of their victory. His focus never wavered, only fading as his lids finally grew too heavy, and he succumbed to the exhaustion the brief stay in the St. Mungo’s had done little to cure.

~~XxX~~

“Y-you what?”

Astoria’s obvious irritation at being cornered by both Harry and Daphne melted away. It hadn’t been easy to get her to agree to talk privately. Daphne had suggested a temporary kidnapping, reasoning that her sister would likely come around once she’d heard the news. They’d eventually settled on waiting for her after dinner one evening, and doing their best to subtly not-exactly-kidnap her. They’d herded her into a nearby alcove while Harry cast his usual privacy charms around the three of them.

“I’m cured,” Daphne repeated, her hands held tightly together in front of her middle.

Astoria stared, her gray-blue eyes unblinking. Her gaze briefly flitted over to Harry, before returning to her sister. “Cured? Not moved?”

“Cured.”

“Broken?”

Daphne shook her head in response. “You know I didn’t have any luck with that aspect of my research. We found another method that removed the curse from me.”

Astoria lapsed back into silence, her stare never waving from her sister’s nervous features. Her eyes narrowed and her chin trembled slightly before she clenched her jaw tight.

“How am I supposed to feel about this?” she finally burst out, a faint laugh escaping alongside a sob. “I’m still so _furious_ with you.” The fair skin of her face tinted red with strain, and tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes. “But now you’re not going to _die_.”

Daphne’s hand twitched towards her sister, but she instead let her arms drop to her side with a shrug. “I guess that means you get to be mad at me for as long as you want.”

In a flash of blond hair and outright sobbing, Astoria flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around Daphne’s middle, burying her face in her shoulder as she cried. “It’s going to be _so_ long,” she barely managed between heaving sobs. “ _How could you?_ ”

“Easily,” Daphne said, returning her sister’s enthusiastic embrace. “I’m sorry for forcing the hard part on you. I’m so sorry.”

~~XxX~~

Later that evening, after Daphne had gone to find Tracey with the Marauder’s Map, Harry sat uncomfortably with Ron and Hermione in the Room of Requirement. Three simple but comfortable chairs sat in front of a roaring fire. He wasn’t uncomfortable for their judgmental scrutiny, or their ham-fisted refusal to talk to him. Two things he’d been afraid of. Instead, they simply sat patiently, openly, and waited.

“Before we graduate might be nice,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not too keen on spending the last few months waiting for you to speak up.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, then grimaced. “But also…you know…sorry.”

Ron laughed aloud while Hermione chuckled softly next to him, shaking her head. 

“That was the worst, mate,” Ron said, his laughter slowly dying down.

“Well I am,” Harry said indignantly. “There were reasons I had to do things the way I did them.”

“Besides the whole _legal_ issue?” Ron asked, a small grin still on his face. 

Harry winced again, his serious discussion with McGonagall coming to mind, as well as the far-too-formal invite to a meeting the Minister Shacklebolt. He turned to Hermione. “I’m sorry if I messed up any opportunity you might’ve had getting into the Ministry after school. I’ve got a feeling Shacklebolt is going to tear me a new one at the very least.” He shrugged weakly. “Hopefully I won’t go to Azkaban.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don't think you'll go to Azkaban. And besides, if I were only getting into the Ministry because of our association, I’d turn down the offer. I prefer to get a job there on my own merits.” Her eyes searched his, a familiar inquisitiveness poking against his significant secrets. “I know you won’t tell us why you attacked Malfoy Manor on your own, and we aren’t mad. We still trust you, Harry. How could we not?”

He shrugged miserably, his gaze falling to his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “It felt wrong to keep you guys out of the loop. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you were furious, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

“It’s _because_ of everything that we’re not,” Ron chimed in.

Hermione nodded vehemently. “He’s right.” She leaned forward and touched Harry gently on the knee, bringing his focus back up to her. “You’re a good person, Harry, and you make your decisions based on a moral compass that’s always steered us true.” She paused and smiled gently at him. “Was it the right thing to do?”

He nodded.

“Then that’s the last I want to hear about it.”

Ron nodded his agreement. “We’re not even all that bothered that we missed a fight. We’ve had enough of those for one lifetime. We just wanted to make sure you knew we’ve still got your back if you need us.”

Harry made a herculean effort not to let his answering smile tremble. 

He wasn’t entirely successful.

~~XxX~~

The heavy door to the Minister’s office closed with a rather final click and Harry let out a slow breath. Daphne waited for him just outside the door and pushed off the wall as he approached. She glanced up and down the long hall.

“Well, I don’t see any Aurors or Dementors, so I gather you aren’t going to be carted off to Azkaban?”

“Seems that way,” he said, holding out a hand, which she eagerly grabbed. “Seems a lack of evidence that I was at Malfoy Manor, and a letter from Cedric stating that I was visiting him when the attack happened has been enough to keep me in the clear.”

Daphne frowned up at him as they approached the single golden elevator at the end of the hallway. “There’s a lot of ways they can find out the truth. Those are pretty flimsy reasons for letting you off. Aren’t you worried about it coming back to haunt you?”

Harry shrugged, pulling open the gate and stepping into the elevator. He shut it behind them and hit the button to take them to the atrium. “If they wanted to pursue it they would have. I think Kingsley is about as happy to be done with it finally as he is mad with me for taking it into my own hands. He _did_ tell me on no uncertain terms that I’ll not be allowed to join the Ministry now.”

“He might think you didn’t trust him to get the job done,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder as they descended past the multitude of bustling floors.

“Maybe,” Harry allowed. “But the truth is, he _wasn’t_ getting the job done.” A bell chimed their arrival, and they stepped out into the milling crowd outside the elevator. “But nobody has to know that’s not why I did it.”

“If you’re okay with it, so am I,” she said, walking alongside him as he navigated them through the busy atrium. “I’m just glad I don’t have to come to visit you in Azkaban. I wasn’t looking forward to that.”

He grinned, stepping around a small group of young Ministry employees that were on a quick lunch break. “I bet I could break out of there. It’d be a challenge, but not impossible.”

She laughed lightly, pointing to a spot on the floor as they passed. “I’m not sure that’s something that someone who received a First Class Order of Merlin right there less than a year ago should say.”

“I forgot to tell you about that. For the most part, I don’t really have one anymore. Besides the obvious reason, that is. Kingsley said if it wouldn’t cause such outrage since they can’t convict me of anything, he’d strip me of the award. I’ve still technically got it, but only because I’m sneaky,” he said, dropping his visitor’s badge on the exit desk without even a glance.

“You’re not sneaky. You’re you. That’s why nothing is happening to you.” She grabbed his hand and led him past all the floos and over to the telephone box elevators.

They slid into the box together, pushing in tight so he could shut the door behind them. “I’m properly sneaky when I need to be,” he said, grinning down at her blank stare. “I’ll tell you later why my invisibility cloak is top-notch.”

Her stare faded into a look of confusion before she lifted up onto her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. The camouflaged elevator slowed as they neared the surface, paltry daylight filtering through the dirty glass as they came to a stop.

The dingy midday sun sat high in the noonday sky, its rays weakly piercing the gray clouds overhead. Daphne pulled him by the hand from the cramped telephone booth elevator and out from the shadow of the building.

“It’s been a _very_ long time since I’ve been to London,” she said, darting a quick glance back as she grabbed him by the hand and led him down the street. “In celebration of your newfound inability to ever work for the Ministry, I’d like to take you out on a date.”

“I’d like nothing more.”

Her answering smile brought with it a warmth the sun failed to provide. She was radiant, healthy, and whole. And despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary-

So was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I ended up posting the whole thing! Turns out posting even daily gives me a sense of completion and satisfaction that I don't have the wherewithal to push through to get to work. So hopefully those of you who have found it enjoy it! If you end up giving it a second readthrough, hopefully the hints and foreshadowing land well :D
> 
> Thanks for checking out my story. As always, thoughts and concrit are very welcome.


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